


Destiny Turned Her Face

by beecakes



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2075433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beecakes/pseuds/beecakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is on hiatus! I'll keep it up in case people want to read it, but an ending hasn't been planned so please don't get your hopes up - sorry!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fanfic. Don't be afraid to give constructive criticism... leave comments and kudos and if I make any mistakes regarding the GTA V plot, please, correct me! I love the game and would hate to be writing something completely off. Thanks for reading. This is just a prologue. Michael and Trevor will be introduced reaaaaally soon.

 

I

 

In the beginning there was nothing. Then there was heat.

 

That unbearable sticky heat, caused by the arid sun heating up the flat Senora Desert. It consisted of dusty plains surrounded by the mountains of San Andreas, mainly inhabited by brain-dead rednecks and meth addicts. The largest town there, if you could call it that, was Sandy Shores. Pretty much an oversized trailer park, next to the Alamo Sea.

 

But you weren’t there at this moment. This is where he’d dropped you off instead. Some dusty road for ATVs and mountain bikes. You kicked the dust at your feet as you walked, your legs aching. It was 11am, and the sun was burning you. It made your eyes sting just to keep them open, and your back was sticking to your shirt due to the sweat. You heard the noise of an engine behind you, and you turned around to face the noise. Dust rose from behind the hill, and you saw a small beat up car come into view.

‘Hey!’ you waved at it. It kept driving.

‘Hey!’ you shouted again, waving your arms more pronouncedly.

‘We dun’ take no hitch hikers! Git!’ Someone in the front seat shouted out the window. You heard other people in the car laughing, as it drove past you, covering you in a fine layer of dust.

‘Trailer trash…’ You muttered, turning back and continuing walking.

 

* * *

 

 

You had been working at the LifeInvader Offices Los Santos for the past 2 or 3 weeks. You were transferred from your office in San Fierro to Los Santos just before the founder of LifeInvader was killed during the keynote, previewing their new prototype phone. The money in the shares or stocks or something shifted and for some reason, more employees were needed in Los Santos. You didn’t really want to go, but you needed the money, so you said goodbye to your family and flew over. When Jay Norris was killed, your family wanted you to come home. However, the team of people at the offices were really adamant that the mess would be fixed and everyone should stay and help out, so you stayed. After all, you had just paid the rent for your apartment this month.

 

When you first started working there, you had met Ricki Lukens, and he was sadly the only acquaintance you had made. This office was a lot more pretentious than the one back home, you felt as though you had to fake your enthusiasm for the place in order to stay afloat. Otherwise, the other young employees wouldn’t include you in the gossip of who slept with their boss to be promoted, or who was watching porn on their desktop. However, you and Ricki had only made casual conversation. You hadn’t seen him for a little while until that day when you were making coffee on your break. That day when he ran over, his whole body trembling.

 

‘You’re here. You okay?’ You asked.

‘What? Me? Yeah. Yeah. Mhm.’ He gave you a grin. You looked at him while stirring sugar into your coffee.

‘Well, I mean I was fired.’ He added.

‘Um. What?’ You asked.

‘Yeah… they thought I had something to do with Jay Norris’ incident… Dude!’ He raised his hands in innocence, noting your stare.

‘That was way too smart for me.’ He assured.

‘So you’re not gonna tell them it wasn’t to do with you?’ You asked, incredulous.

‘Nah. I got better work.’ He smiled.

‘Oh.’ You replied. You felt slightly sad that the only person you had talked to properly was going to leave.

 

‘But anyway, how’re you doing?’ He asked - smiling with his teeth bared - starting to make his own coffee, probably his last.

‘Um, fine. Pay’s shit.’ You replied.

‘Pay is shit, yeah. Yep.’ He paused.

‘Pay is shit…’ He repeated, mumbling.

You smiled weakly, picking up your coffee and turning away.

‘Wait, wait. (y/n), yeah?’ You turned a little and nodded.

‘Do you, erm you know. Are you in the game?’ He stuttered, looking around the empty room.

‘Um, what?’ You faced him fully.

‘Do you want good money?’ He whispered.

‘Who doesn’t?’ You laughed.

‘You’re good with computers. I’ve seen you. You work here, so of course you are good with computers.’ He spoke rapidly.

‘But are you up for challenges? Do you hack?’ He sneered.

‘I’m not sure where you’re going with this but…’ You started.

‘200K!’ He shouted, loud enough for your colleagues to hear. You looked around nervously, and started to walk to the door.

‘(y/n)! Wait!’ He grabbed your arm.

‘What?’ You hissed, growing impatient.

‘I did a job, for a guy. Hacking into a system. It was easy, easy, easy, easy.’ He spoke quickly, you didn’t know if he had a stutter or was on cocaine. Probably adrenaline. A job?

‘You could do it. I betcha. And it’s amazing pay. For us, anyway.’ He said, close to your face.

‘Get your arm off of me.’ You said, shaking away from his grasp. He looked at you and pressed his lips into a straight line. Then he looked away.

‘I don’t know why I even told you this. Shit.’ He looked back down at you.

‘What the fuck have I done?’ He asked.

‘I dunno.’ You said.

‘I, I… me neither. Just fucking call him!’ He said, taking out a pen from his vest pocket. It had small Tetris pieces printed on it. ‘…Because if you don’t, then I’ve just told you something I shouldn’t have done. Shit, what if he kills me?’ He whispered, writing furiously on a napkin. He then held it out in front of you, but you didn’t really want to contact anyone that would kill Ricki.

‘Dudes and dudettes, what is _with_ the negative energy in here?’ Someone else walked into the room. They then looked at Ricki and avoided his gaze.

 

‘You’re just a girl, anyway. I shouldn’t have…’ He started.

You took the napkin and walked out of the room, sitting back down at your desk. After all, you weren’t just a girl. Fuck, you were badass. He must have offended your inner feminist, and you didn’t want to give him the pleasure of being with a female for more than five minutes. He didn’t exactly look like a babe-magnet.

 

~

 

‘Hello and welcome to Fame or Shame! What’s your name?’ Shouted Lazlow.

‘Ugh’ you groaned, with a mouthful of Chinese takeout. You changed the channel on the cheap TV you had in your cheap apartment on the cheap side of Los Santos.

 

Your phone started buzzing on the coffee table but you ignored it and your eyes went back to the TV. The news reporters were talking about that jewel store that was robbed a week or so ago when you noticed your phone had not stopped buzzing. It was ringing. You moaned and picked it up, answering it while sitting your food down.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s Ricki.’

‘Ricki?’ You have my number?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How did you get it?’ You asked standing up.

‘People say they ‘know people’, well let’s just say I am ‘those people’.’

‘Right.’ You mumbled. ‘What do you want?’

‘I just wanted to say sorry about being weird with you earlier.’

‘Oh, I thought it was just your personality.’ You replied.

‘Ha. So will we just say that I never told you about any job and you get rid of that number, yeah?’

Pause. Why wasn’t this decision easy? Just say yes. Ricki was obviously talking about an illegal job. What if you got caught? Your parents would lose all hope. You would live up to their expectations of ruining your life. But still, you pondered the idea. Ricki said 200K. You thought of your family and them wanting success for you. Money is success… Right? You thought about the shitty apartment you were living in. You thought about your fail of a life. You thought about how it could change with one word.

 

‘No.’ You said it. Another pause.

‘I said no.’ You repeated.

‘Oh. Right, right. But you, erm, can’t just like…’ He trailed off, sounding surprised.

‘I’ll call the guy. What will I say? I’m interested in a job?' You asked.

‘No, no. I’ll call him. I’ll call him for you. Talk you up, you know? Make you sound like a desirable cog for the works.’ He laughed, possibly sarcastically.

‘I’ll talk to you soon.’

‘Okay,’ You started, but he had hung up.

You sat back down on the sofa again, turning off the TV. You weren’t quite sure what you were getting into, or what it would bring you.

 

* * *

 

 

You had risen over the hill and sheltered your eyes with one hand. You looked out at the mess of trailers and old buildings with missing bricks scattered around. More beat up cars were driving in and out of the ‘town’, past small groups of drunken rednecks. Wow.

‘Sandy Shores’ you breathed.

 

 

 


	2. Bring Me into This Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, couldn't introduce Mikey and T without a little tension... >:3 Sorry if I murder their characters... I tried!

 

II

 

 

Water. Water.

 

You reached for the water bottle in your bag and pulled it out. You’d packed everything you thought you might need; money, ID, even your resume from your high school years. God, that felt like forever ago. That was when you actually thought you might have a chance to get a good job and make your parents proud. ‘Now where am I…’ you thought, taking a giant gulp of the water. You had left your family and friends behind for this life. ‘Maybe if you had stayed on at college…’ your father might say, him really meaning: ‘Maybe if you hadn't got wasted every night with your friends and skip class to get high…’ You sighed, wishing you could travel back in time and slap yourself.

 

‘Maybe I can finally renew everything.’ You thought. You could pay back your parents for the college fees that never served their purpose. Well, they did, but you didn't. You had already finished your water, so much for buying it for the car journey.

 

~

 

You left your apartment after you saw Ricki pull up. You stepped into his car and smiled.

‘Hi.’ You said, shutting the door and putting on your seat belt. He seemed to have lost his adrenaline fueled charisma from last week, starting the car without speaking a word.

‘Um, thanks for taking me here. I know it’s a long way.’ You said.

‘Yeah, I can’t believe you don’t have a car. Everyone has a car.’ He said.

‘Well, you can get public transport in cities like this.’ You reasoned. He glanced at you.

‘I guess I just never got round to getting lessons…’ You shrugged, embarrassed. He didn't say anything back, and you were glad you didn't have to tell him that actually you failed your test. Twice.

 

It was a long, boring, journey; you discovered you have nothing in common with the computer geek other than an understanding of computers, which didn’t come up in conversation anyway. You were beginning to think maybe he didn't like you after all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘Sandy Shores’ you breathed. You gazed upon the atrocity which has formed over the years and walked forward. Sure, the Alamo Sea was just like the photos. Beautiful. But the models in front of it ceased to exist. Nobody here was model material.

 

You were looking for street names or house numbers but nothing was really labelled here, and there definitely weren't any white picket fences and swimming pools. After you had consulted where Ricki had set a waypoint on your phone, you walked towards a trailer that you thought might be the one. You wondered why Ricki hadn't come with you any closer to the destination anyway; he just told you that you should do it on your own. All of your nerves had settled down however, and you stopped in front of the trailer with confidence. You briefly glanced at the guy’s details on your phone before knocking on the door. It made a sharp metallic ringing noise. You waited. You thought this guy was a rich man, living in LS. But apparently he’s here. This trailer. Then you knocked again, 3 times. Still no response. You heard shuffling inside, but it stopped again. You wondered if this was the right place. You raised your hand to knock again, but you only knocked once when the door flung open, nearly breaking off the hinges.

 

‘Who the _FUCK_ is it?’

You looked up, startled, at the man towering above you. He had graying and balding hair, and had scars on his face. His eyes portrayed a crazed expression, his mouth slightly ajar, lips parted. Waiting.

‘Eh?’ He shouted, leaning over to you.

‘Um… Erm… I’m looking… Michael De Santa?’ You asked, all of your nerves returning to you, for different reasons. He stepped back slightly, licking his lips and looking at you. You suddenly felt exposed and weak, noting his strong physique.

‘ _Mikey?_ ’ He asked in a sing-song voice, turning around and removing his eyes from you.

‘You expecting a visitor or somethin’?’ He asked no one.

‘What? No.’ Another voice grumbled from a different area in the small trailer, presumably Michael. The first man turned back to look at you.

‘Um, Ricki sent me. Ricki Lukens? About a job?’ You said quickly.

‘Not that nerd.’ Michael said quietly. ‘I told him I don’t need no help. I got my guys.’

You suddenly felt a flush of embarrassment and almost betrayal.

‘Aw, c’mon Mikey. Don’t leave this little lady out here on her own.’ The man said, his tone significantly changed since when he first met you.

‘Lady?’ Michael repeated, suddenly appearing at the door. He was slightly shorter but fatter. The first guy was leaner, you could see even through his stained T-Shirt and sweatpants. You felt both of the men’s eyes on you, and you shifted on your feet, uncomfortable. Michael rubbed his eyes and moaned.

‘Look, lady. I’m sorry, we ain't needing anyone.’

‘Can I please just, erm, talk to you? I won’t be long. Please?’ You pleaded.

‘No-’

‘Yeah!’ The other guy turned to Michael, sending a threatening look.

‘Fuck! Trevor! We’re busy.’ He jabbed his thumb backwards, and you followed his hand back but all you saw was an old woman standing ironing some clothes. Trevor grabbed your hand and bared his teeth, a smile perhaps.

‘Come in, come in. Make yourself at home.’ He dragged you in.

You sat down on the sofa, both intrigued and wanting to leave at the same time.

‘Boys! You have brought home a woman!’ The old woman smiled, she sounded Hispanic.

‘Patricia, meet…’ Trevor trailed off.

‘Oh, I’m (y/n).’ You replied.

‘Make sure the boys treat you right, yes!’ Patricia said.

You felt slightly uncomfortable sitting down in a stranger’s home, especially this one. You looked between Trevor, Michael and Patricia all together. It was a strange selection of people, Michael in a dark blue suit, with a wrinkled forehead as if he’s been frowning a lot. Trevor, someone with no apparent concern for appearance, whatsoever. And not in a messy, tousled-but-sexy way. In a kinda disgusting way. And Patricia, an old lady with red hair in pink sweats. All in one trailer. A horrible trailer, to say the least. You picked some of the material on the sofa, most of which was torn anyway from god knows what type of activity.

 

‘So, (y/n).’ Trevor said slowly.

‘I’ll handle this, T.’ Michael said, grabbing a chair and sitting on it backwards, facing you. Trevor was staring at you as Michael talked.

‘So, Ricki said he had someone who might help us out in uh… some ways. Although I told him I wasn't interested, you’re still here.’ He waved his hand nonchalantly.

‘Listen, you look like a nice girl. I don’t wanna involve you inn our messed up lives, but you've came to us.’ He said, his ice-blue eyes staring at you while he spoke. You nodded.

‘First of all, we gotta get this straight. Us? We’re bad people, and in order for you to work with us, you gotta be one of the bad people. Right?’ He asked. You stared at him blankly. Michael sighed.

‘I knew this would be useless…’ Michael started, scratching his head.

‘Hey, don’t patronize the lady. Give her a chance, it’s not like you’re flawless.’ Trevor said. You glanced up at him, he was holding a bottle of beer in one hand and leaning on a table with the other hand.

‘What do you do, sugar?’ He smiled.

‘I’m good with computers, sourcing information…’ You said.

‘Great! You hack!’ He cheered.

‘Erm…’ You mumbled, looking away.

‘See! This is fuckin’ useless. No offence.’ Michael interrupted.

‘No. I can hack.’ You said, slightly agitated. You came here expecting to receive a date and time when you could work your computer magic, get the cash and leave. Instead, an interrogation by two old guys.

‘And you’re good at it? Alarms and shit? Passwords on computer systems?’ Michael asked.

‘Sure. I mean, the biggest hack I've done was hacking my old college’s webpage to fill the screen with pictures of, um, dicks. But I can do better.’ You said.

‘Ha! Great! Hired!’ Trevor stood up. Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating. You bit your lip.

 

‘I’m sorry. I can’t bring you into this life. Look at ya, you’re all nice.’ He nodded to you.

‘Well fuck, M. You didn’t say that when you brought _me_ into this life. Hey, I’ll bring her into this life.’ Trevor smiled.

‘You were already bat-shit crazy. And also, says the guy with no empathy. Of course you would do that.’ Michael dead-panned.

‘Fuck you. We both have our fair share of not caring for others feelings, Mikey.’ He shot back.

‘At least I-’

‘Don’t act like you’re _saner_ than I am!’ Trevor shouted. ‘You’re fucked too!’

‘Guys!’ You interrupted, feeling extremely awkward during their little argument.

‘If I’m not needed, I’ll go.’ You said.

‘No, no, no.’ Trevor said.

‘Yeah, if he hasn't scared you off yet then maybe you _will_ be fit to work for him.’ Michael got off of his chair and walked over to the refrigerator.

‘Yeah, whatever. We’re doing a _big_ score in the future…’ Trevor exaggerated with his hands. ‘And maybe some more things you might be interested in helping us with… but we’ll call you if we need you.’ It took a moment for the realisation of acceptance to sink in.

‘Thank you! Thanks so much!’ You gushed. Michael looked at Trevor, almost like he was wondering smugly if he regretted his choice. Trevor was unfazed.

‘I mean, thanks. I won’t let you guys down. Here’s my number.’ You handed over a card with your details on it. Trevor took it and shoved it in his pocket.

‘Alrighty! I’ll make sure you come back soon, sugar. Real soon.’ Trevor winked, opening the door behind you.

‘Um, yeah.’ You mumbled, walking out.

 

The door shut behind you, and you heard Trevor say ‘She’s hot.’ Michael warned him, ‘Trevor we've hired her. Employee, colleague, whatever. Don’t. Even. Try.’

The voices were raised as you walked off the steps back onto sandy terrain.

‘Don’t be such a fuckin’ killjoy and anyway, I hired her not you…’

‘T, _no._ You’re not fuckin’ things up again as usual!’ Michael shouted.

‘Ha! Well you sure fucked up things in North Yankton, ya dead man. I can’t STAND hypocrites!’ Trevor roared.

‘I’ve told you, I’ve made honest mis-’ Michael started.

‘Oh, and what’s that even supposed to mean anyway? I ain't fucked nothin’ up!’ Trevor replied.

‘Oh you haven’t fucked anything up. Then explain Patricia Madrazo!’ Michael laughed loudly.

‘Yes, boys?’ Patricia asked.

 

You pretended you didn’t hear anything. You turned left. Then you stopped and turned right. Motel? You left, wandering in the vague direction of cars.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, kudos and comment and tell me if I make any mistakes! c:


	3. Pure Insanity

 

III

 

 

Your eyes fluttered open, you saw white. You shut them again. Then you opened them again and squinted at the sunlight pouring in through the window.  You moaned loudly, pulling the bedcovers over your face and snuggling into your personal cocoon. You were not a morning person. Your senses slowly returned to you, unfamiliar sounds and smells. You heard a strange noise. You listened to it, it sounded familiar but your newly awoken mind was having trouble recognising it. It was just then you recognised the noise. Your alarm.

 

You jolted out of bed, scrambling over for wherever you left your phone last night. You grabbed it and pressed all the buttons, finally silencing it you let out a sigh. You rubbed your eyes, and realised that this bed was not your bed and this room was not your room. Oh yeah, you’d camped at this motel last night, in Sandy Shores. You yawned and glanced at your phone again. Monday, 9:31AM.

 

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ You cursed, rising to your feet and nearly falling over. You were wearing the T-Shirt you had on yesterday, you’d slept in it. You didn’t bring a change of clothes though, so you slipped on the jeans you had on yesterday too. God, god! You had work, an 11am shift! You ran to the bathroom, looking in the mirror while fixing your hair slightly. You splashed your face with water and quickly brushed your teeth with the toothbrush and paste the place had provided. You were kinda surprised that they did, after all they didn’t have anything else really.

 

You stepped into your shoes and grabbed your bag, leaving the room while holding your phone to your face. ‘Hi, I need a taxi ASAP.’ You said, telling them where to go. You ran past the person at the desk in the reception, throwing money and your room keys in their direction. You assumed that it covered the cost as they didn’t call on you when you left the building. ‘Fuck.’ You whispered. ‘I’m a fucking idiot.’ You thought to yourself.

 

Not more than 5 minutes later a taxi appeared and you stepped inside, smiling gratefully.

‘Where you heading?’ The Mexican driver asked you.

‘Uh, LifeInvader offices. In the city.’

‘A long way, I’ll get you there as soon as I can.’ He said.

‘Thank you.’ You sat your head back against the leather seat. You just realised your fly was open on your jeans. ‘I’m a mess.’ You thought while zipping it up and leaning back, shutting your eyes. You wondered what excuse you could use for being late. Traffic? No, everybody knows you walk to work. Somebody’s died? Fuck, no. You don’t even have any friends here and family’s too risky as they’re contactable. You didn’t want to call in sick because you were meant to be presenting at a conference today, if some other idiot that works there gets to present instead then there’s no way you’d get a pay rise. Dumbass, imagine forgetting that you had work. You should have remembered to get up earlier since it’s a long drive from out here. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

 

You jerked forward; the car had suddenly stopped, along with the self-deprecating thoughts.

‘¡Mierda!’ The driver said.

‘Get off the road vendejo!’ He shouted.

You looked out of the window to see someone using the taxi to balance themselves. The fuck was this shit, was he hit? It was then you realised he only had his underwear on. The guy looked up and smiled.‘Woaah! W-watch where yer going there!’ He laughed.

‘Oh my fucking god.’ You whispered. It was Trevor. The cab driver smacked the horn, shouting profanely in Spanish. You grabbed your bag.‘Wait! Wait! Let me get out here!’ You said, fumbling for the door and exiting the vehicle. ‘Just wait here okay!’ You said to the driver.

 

 ‘Hey, hey Trevor?’ You said tentatively, he was staring at his boots with great compassion.

‘Can I help you?’ You said, touching his arm to lead him off of the road. He was stinking of alcohol and he stumbled with you to the other side of the road.

‘Can you make it back to you trailer from here, T?’ You asked.

He looked up at you with curious eyes, took a double take and his expression changed to confusion. He frowned, and grabbed onto your shoulders. The confusion turned into rage.

‘ _Who the fuck are you_?’ He screamed, shaking you.

‘Don’t you _touch_ me!’ He spat in your face.‘Who are you!’

‘T-trevor! It’s (y/n)! We met yesterday!’ You answered, your pitch rising out of fear.

‘Y-yeah? Stop lying! T-to me! To good old Trevor!’ He shouted, grabbing your shirt and lifting you up with ease.

‘Oh my god! Stop it! Ah!’ You screamed, thrashing around as he lifted you to eye-level.

‘You’re trying to confuse me! I, I’m not being t-tricked again!’ He cried. The taxi had already driven away at top speed; you wished you could do the same.

‘Put me down, Trev-’ your voice cracked. ‘Trevor.’ You tried to stay calm. He looked you straight in the eye. Pure insanity.

‘D-do what I say. Now.’ You said calmly.

The insanity slowly faded from his eyes and he dropped you. You fell to your knees but you quickly stood up and brushed yourself off. You looked up at him, worried he might try something again. You wanted to run off immediately, but he did something unexpected.

 

 He burst into sobs. ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!’ He choked.

‘Momma…’ He pulled you into a hug. What the fuck? You patted his back awkwardly.

‘No, T, this is (y/n). We met yesterday, remember.’ You said as softly as possible.

‘(y/n)?’ He looked up at you. Then he wiped his tears and stood up more straight.

‘Y-you should be working… for… us.’ He slurred.

‘I’ll take you home first.’ You said, with the smallest hint of a smile. Your immense fear had transformed into pity as you held him and led him back to his trailer. 

 

* * *

 

 

He flopped down onto his sofa, sprawled out awkwardly. You sat on one of the kitchen chairs.

 

'Where's Michael and Patricia?' You asked.

'Patricia's gardening. Michael's probably wallowing in self-pity somewhere...' He slurred.

‘God I need a drink.’ You muttered.

‘Take water.’ Trevor said. You had thought he’d passed out already.

‘No, I mean a _drink_.’ You replied.

‘Take beer then.’ He buried his face back into the sofa. You glanced at the bottles of beer on the table, they’re probably warm and disgusting.

‘I meant more like a spirit. You have any whiskey?’ You asked.

He groaned. ‘What do you t-take me for? An old man?’ You opened your mouth. ‘D-don’t answer that.’ He laughed. You smiled back. He still looked tipsy.

‘Why do you want _whiskey_ anyway?’ He mocked you. You paused.

‘I want to feel the burn in the back of my throat.’ You said, looking at him to see how he’d react.

‘A fellow masochist!’ He shouted.

‘No! No… I’m not.’ You laughed loudly. ‘I need to take my mind off of things. I’m meant to be at work right now.’

‘Work? You work for me now.’ Trevor said.

‘Yeah, I know. But I have a job in the city and I need the money.’ You said.

‘You get money from us. Probably more too.’

‘Well, an official company can pay into my account and it’s taxed too so that’s probably less risky than you know…’

‘Hey! We have L-lester! He does the whole safe money thing.’ He said defensively. You pressed your lips together and thought it over.

‘So, what, I just stop going to work?’ You said skeptically.

‘Exactly.’ He replied. You shook your head. Your leg was shaking and you bit at the skin on your thumb. You didn’t want to stay here but you didn’t want to leave Trevor either. You picked up your bag and looked around for your money, wondering if you still had enough to get back into town.

‘Shit…’ you whispered, searching frantically.‘Only half of my money is here…’ You said.

You looked over at Trevor. He was fast asleep.  You just realized you paid the taxi driver to take you into town but never got your money back.

‘Fuck!’ You said. 

'What?' Trevor stirred. 

'The taxi driver still has my money!'

'Taxi? What?' Trevor slurred.

'I need to get back into town, T.' You said desperately.

'I'll take you then, calm your tits.' He grumbled. 

'You're under the influence...' 

 

Trevor rose to his feet and walked over to the kitchen counter, scrambling around for something. He then found something and put it in his mouth and swallowed it. He then walked into his room.

'I'll be feeling awake and ready as fuck in a few minutes. Let's go.' He said to you, pulling on a pair of jeans and the same stained white shirt he had on yesterday. He started walking out the door. You followed him outside, mouth wide open.

'What the hell? Was that speed?' You asked, joining him in his truck. He started up the engine and didn't reply back. 

'You realize that still makes you under the influence?' You raised an eyebrow.

'Shut up about it. Let's go.' He pulled out of his driveway and sped down the road.

'You're going to kill us!' You laughed as he overtook cars and took shortcuts on the way to the Senora Freeway.

'And it sure as heck will be fun!' He roared. You'd never felt so alive, your hair blowing around like wild as you traveled at way past the speed limit. You watched the desert mountains as they passed, and saw the skyscrapers of Los Santos appear over the horizon. 

 

'I have no idea why you stay here.' Trevor said all of a sudden.

'Huh?' You asked.

'It's just so full of fake people, all believing each others fake bullshit and trying to live some fake fairy tale happily ever after crap.' 

'It's not that bad.' You looked back at the road.

'Look-' He pointed to people walking at the side of the road. 'We're already seeing them.'

'What, people?' You laughed.

'Like flies swarming around a carcass.' He retorted.

'The carcass that is Los Santos.' You smiled back.

 

'Just wait a second, sugartits. Gonna get some things.' He pulled over beside an Ammu-nation. You didn't question what he was getting, you didn't want to know. You stepped out of the car with him, and stretched your legs a little. You leaned against the car and pulled out your phone, looking at a text message you'd received. 'hi girlll, how's los santos?x' from your old best friend back in San Fierro. You started typing back. 'it's been a while kat! it's good.x' you replied. She replied around 10 seconds later. 'yh, it's been a while of u not txting me!! it's good? wot have you been doing!!x' 'exploring new opportunities girl x' you were typing.

 

Someone grabbed your neck and covered your mouth. 'Don't. Scream. Or I'll shoot.' They whispered into your ear. You felt the cool barrel of a gun pressed against your temple. You closed your eyes tightly. You had dropped your phone. You panicked and didn't know what to do. You started hyperventilating. 'Oh my god, I'm going to die.' You thought. 'This is it. Unless...'

You then opened your eyes and bit the pursuer's hand. 

'Shit!' They shouted. You heard the gun go off.


	4. Exiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to anyone who is still reading this thing - ly guys
> 
> oh and sorry if my spanish is bad i mean i studied it for 4 years but you get rusty over summer... you spend more time reading fanfiction than doing your homework c;
> 
> xxx

 

IV

 

You choked on a cough as you quickly dragged your hands through your hair. You stretched the skin on your forehead as to open your eyes, almost as though you were forcing yourself to realize what just happened. You looked at the person lying on the ground, blood seeping from the bullet hole in the center of their forehead through their dark hair and onto the street. You covered your mouth, feeling nauseous. You looked up to find Trevor holding a heavy pistol in the air, his lips a straight line and his brows frowning in what looked like concentration or concern. He had completely sobered up from earlier.  He slowly lowered the pistol and walked towards you, looking around suspiciously. The loud ringing noise in your ears was persisting even though the gun was fired some moments ago.

'We need to go.' He said. You continued staring at him in disbelief. What? You then snapped.

'This doesn't fucking happen! This is one of those stupid fucking Righteous Slaughter games!' You exclaimed, wide eyes frantically searching the area for something normal to focus on. 'Video game!' You screamed, looking back at him.

'Where do you think video games get the fucking ideas from, c'mon I'm serious.' He joked, waving you towards the rusty old Bodhi model he drove.

'No, T. This is literally insane. So fucking... not sane!' You ran over to him, pointing in his face. 'You can't just kill someone like that. He... he's dead!'

'I didn't expect you to get so worked up about this...' He sighed, opening the passenger seat for you.

'Oh yeah, I wonder why I'd get so worked up about you murdering someone hmm...' You said bitterly as he let himself into the front seat. He looked over at you impatiently. 

'Pfft, don't act all Miss. High and Superior just because you never kill some folks-' He laughed.

'How the fuck are you laughing? YOU ENDED HIS LIFE.' You repeated slowly as if Trevor was a child being punished for doing something bad.

 

Trevor's agitated smile hardened into a straight line.

'Hey hey hey, hold on sugartits. YOU, were nearly the one getting your  _head_ blown off of your shoulders, bits of brain splattering across the street-' Trevor motioned with his hands, 'but still, not one fucking thank you?' He questioned, looking you dead in the eye.

'Oh I'm supposed to thank you f-' You started.

'"Oh thank you sir, for saving my life!" would be great. Or a "Thanks, T." would be fine. Or at  _least_ a blowjob.' He spoke towards you, though his eyes were wandering towards the deceased man on the ground.

'Ugh. I can't do this.' You whispered, turning and walking away, stepping over the remains of the person.

 

You expected Trevor to maybe shout after you, telling you how ridiculous you were being and if you were this uncomfortable you shouldn't have even got involved with him. But he didn't, he sat in his car watching you walk away. Tears fell from your eyes for some reason, you weren't too sure why you were getting emotional. You heard the engine start from behind you. You kept walking. He drove slowly alongside you.

'Get in.' He instructed. You shot him a look.

'Look, I get that you're pissed okay? Just get the fuck in though! Or you could be dead for real this time!' He shouted angrily. That's when you heard tires squealing from behind you. You looked behind and saw two black Gallivanters brake and pull up beside the dead man.

'¡Plan ha salido mal!'

''¡Mierda! Dónde está?' People were shouting things in Spanish. 

'He fucking killed him!' Someone shouted in English.

 

This time you took Trevor's advice and quickly slipped into the truck before Trevor drove away quickly. You heard gunshots from behind as the other people tried to shoot out Trevor's tires. He drove fast, clipping the side mirrors of other cars and flattening a road sign. You were worried he might crash but he seemed pretty in-control for being so reckless, turning sharply around bends as he tried to lose the others. He had managed to climb up the twisted roads of Vinewood Hills and he was just approaching the no-man's land in between LS and Blaine County.

'Looks like you must of killed the wrong type of guy.' You said quietly once you were sure he had lost them. Trevor abruptly slammed the brakes while pulling off the road, sending you flying forward. You weren't quite used to the bipolar tendencies yet.

'Listen here you ungrateful little shit, I saved you from being murdered and drove you away as quickly as possible and you still haven't thanked me yet. I did all that for someone who _claims_ to be working for me but hasn't done shit for me? You're just some hacker!' He spat in your face, leaning over to your seat. You didn't want to mention that he hadn't offered you any jobs yet so you just shifted in your seat.

'Thanks.' You said meekly. He was still staring at you, his hazel eyes a different world from yours. You held your gaze as his eyes bored into you. You then averted your eyes and looked at your hands on your lap.

'You're welcome. You're fucking welcome.' He slowly sat back down in his side of the car. He hadn't started driving again yet, he was staring at the wheel which he was gripping onto forcefully. His knuckles turned white.

 

'Why'd ya think they wanted to... kill me?' You asked quietly. 'Money?' You suggested. Trevor was still looking ahead then he slowly shook his head.

'No, uh.' He replied. You waited.

'That was... Madrazo's men.' He said.

'Madrazo? That sounds familiar...' You whispered.

'Well yeah, he's the leader of a Mexican-American drug cartel who lives the American dream bathing in his millions of dollars earned by other fucking idiots that spoon feed him.' Trevor explained.

'Never heard of him. I don't know why "Madrazo" rings a bell. Why were his men trying to kill me anyway though?' You asked.

'Well they're actually trying to kill me. And Michael. I guess they were gonna kidnap you and make us pay ransom or something... It's clever.' Trevor admitted while nodding his head in thought. Your jaw dropped as you looked at him.

'So I was nearly dead because of you? And you saved me from a near death experience caused by you?' You narrowed your eyes.

'No! No. Well yeah, but I mean-'

'Trevor!' You shouted.

'I mean I'm sorry? I'm really sorry?' replied.

'For fuck's sake what did you do to piss him off so much anyway?' You shook your head. Trevor grinned slowly, menacingly.

'I stole his wife.' He smiled. You didn't say a word and you looked back at him. You'd had enough of the surprises by now, you weren't really that shocked as much as concerned.

'Where is she? Is she okay? Is she at your trailer? You didn't... Oh... Oh.' You trailed off. You looked back at the road and the few cars that passed by. It must be around 3pm or something.

'She's a lovely woman and he treats her so wrong!' Trevor pleaded. You shook your head once again, you had no words. Patricia Madrazo.

'That's one serious case of Stockholm Syndrome...' You muttered.

'You're beginning to sound like Michael.' Trevor groaned, putting his foot on the gas and driving back onto the road.

'But at least you don't think I'm deranged.' He added. 

'I wouldn't go as far to say I don't think that...' You gave an empty laugh. 'Okay, you can take me back now.'  He drove along the road and down the hill. It dawned on you that this was the way towards Blaine County when you noted the farmhouses appearing. 

'I mean my home, Trevor.' You said.

'Your home? In Los Santos? No way.' Trevor replied.

'What?'  You asked.

'What?' He repeated. 'You'd be as well walking around with a sign that says "I'm Trevor Philips' Girlfriend, Kill Me Now!" around your neck.'

'T?' You asked, scared.

'Sorry but you're exiled from Los Santos for a little while. They're gonna be looking for you too now. It's cool, you can bunk at Casa Philips just like the others!' He grinned. He looked way too excited for something which sounded partially life-ruining for you.

'You're kidding. Exiled? God you dick!' You shouted.

'Hey calm down sugar. Two's company, three's a crowd-' Trevor started.

'Four's too many!' You shouted. 

'Whatever. Stay alive with me or die with that shithole of a city. Your choice.' He was enjoying this too much.

You turned around and huffed while folding your arms and frowning. So much for new opportunities. This sounded like bullshit. You just hoped during this time Trevor would take you on a job so you could get some money to make up for the fact you probably were not going to be back to work for a while. If not ever.

You looked out of the window at the trees that flew past you, you wanted to reach out and touch the leaves like you did as a kid. "Put your hands back inside the car! You'll hurt yourself!" your parents would tell you as you would continue and stick your head out of the window too. You loved feeling unstoppable as a child, you loved adventure. You loved crawling up the trees while your other friends would stay at the bottom and look up in awe. Your mother always told you that you had a "fire in your heart" but by the time you were a teenager you realized that the fire was burning everything down. You went from adventurous to reckless and exciting to crazy. You burned the hopes and dreams of a future, and you hated yourself for it. You desired to be a child again, when the fire was just a warm flame that fueled you with ambition.

Your child self would love that you were being driven in a fast car with your hair blowing in the wind and trees and bushes you could reach out and touch. Your teenager self would love that you were driving with a near enough stranger to a near enough stranger town, "it's new and cool" you would have said. That is probably also what you said when you handed out those jacked up ecstasy pills in college to your friends. You sighed. 'Maybe I could try and make the best of this. But I am a negative little shit.' you thought. "Just some hacker" and "Maybe if you had stayed on at school" swirled around in your head. You guessed if you were gonna be a pessimist and decide that this string of decisions were bad, then at least try and enjoy the bad decisions. Your eyes focused on the pistol hanging out of Trevor's waistband. It looked intimidating but inviting, you stopped yourself from reaching out for it. It scared you too. Like when you see an amazing sandcastle and you're scared that you'll just run over and ruin it, or when you walk over a tall bridge and you're scared you might leap off. You looked back up at Trevor's face. He was looking at the road. You looked away again.

 

'What's up?' Trevor asked softly. It surprised you.

You waited a second before replying, 'I'm not your girlfriend, T. So that wouldn't be on the sign around my neck.' 

Trevor laughed loudly, 'Yeah, you wish. I have Patricia in my heart!' 

'...But you in my company, so sorry if I'm tempted.' He growled. You shuddered.

 


	5. Paleto Bay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys. it's been a while, i'm sorry. there's been school work and studying now that i'm back at school, it's harder to find time to write. this chapter is sort of a filler, even though it's long. hope y'all bear with me uwu
> 
> kudos, comment, bookmark subscribe what ever! constructive criticism welcome! thank you all xo

 

V

 

 

You grazed your fingers along the long crack in your phone screen, from the bottom right corner all through up to the right corner. It had cracked when you dropped it during the attack from one of Madrazo’s men. The crack sliced the front-facing camera in two. ‘No more selfies.’ You thought, as you watched the glass catch the light and it shined. Not that you would have taken many selfies anyway, it’s not that you weren’t self-confident – you just didn’t find yourself worthy of taking pictures of to upload onto social media only for your dumb generation to judge them. ‘Ugly ratchet hoeee’ you would sometimes see on other people’s LifeInvader pictures. ‘Beautiful!!!!’ on others. ‘Beautiful.’ You smiled, they wouldn’t know true beauty, just fake requirements set by the media. You were beginning to think Trevor’s attitude towards the city people was rubbing off on you.

 

Whereas this, this was beautiful. You were sitting down at the headland of the Marina in Sandy Shores, looking out onto the Alamo Sea. You were surprised to hear that a few days previously a cargo plane had crashed into the sea. You searched the waters, but it was too dark to see. You thought there would be more people here, investigating like you were; but not even a mass event like that could bring crowds to Sandy Shores. You could only find the beauty if you ignored the civilisation. The sun was setting on one side of the mountains, purple and pink hues spreading across the sky before burning down into bright oranges the closer to the sun. The moon was rising on the other side of the mountains; the sky becoming a dark veil over light, stars dotted around like paint splatters. The water was reflecting all the colours and you watched, mesmerized as night fell. You were glad to find that the warm air was cooling. A break (to put it delicately) from the city felt like it would do good to you.  

 

Trevor and Michael were surveying a bank to rob in Paleto Bay. The fact that they were robbing a bank did not faze you, god you were used to the crazy. You didn’t care about the crazy. You didn’t care about much, to be honest. However you had never heard of Paleto Bay, never mind been there, you were more curious about that place. Trevor told you he would take you hunting there sometime for the elk. You asked him if he takes all his crew members hunting for elk. He said you were different. You disagreed. However, you didn’t actually protest due to him being your boss and that being strange; you used to love animals as a kid. That deterred you. You then tried desperately to use your smashed phone to source some information about the bank but apparently Lester already had. You’d wanted to get a head start with the ‘work’ that was being offered during your stay, but as Trevor put it exquisitely; the crippled old guy in a wheelchair had beaten you to it. They were just going to survey the bank, get a feel for the security etc. In fact, they were probably back now. You still couldn’t tear your eyes away from the water and the sun setting between the mountains. The sun was just barely visible… then it had disappeared. It was officially past dusk.

 

You pulled yourself up and climbed back over the headland towards the street. You eventually approached Trevor’s trailer, giving a weak knock before walking straight in and making a move for the sofa.

‘Hello sugar.’ Trevor growled.

‘Hi, T.’ you replied, putting your feet back and lying down. You thought that this was strange behaviour for someone being in their Boss’ house, but you didn’t care. He was the reason you couldn’t get to your own house, and you were really tired.

‘Oh, hey.’ Michael said. He was drinking fumbling with a packet of cigarettes.

‘Hey, M.’ you said.

‘I hear Trevor got you on the hit list too.’ Michael smirked. You made strange noise like an approving grunt.

‘Idiot.’ Michael stated, opening the door and standing on the deck. He lit a cigarette and stood in the doorway, taking a drag and blowing the smoke outside with his eyes closed. You shut your eyes too.

 ‘Where’d you learn that, by the way? I thought you were a good girl.’ Michael laughed. You opened one eye and asked ‘What?’

‘The initials. M, T. When you talk to your ‘accomplices’ in robberies.’ Michael replied.

‘Oh. I don’t know. I just got used to it.’ You shrugged. ‘Yeah, that’s what they do isn’t it… you guys… do.’ You mumbled. Michael looked away with a slight smile. You didn’t know if he was feeling pride, or if he was just thinking you really weren’t cut out for this. You shut your eyes again.

 

‘Hey, don’t fall asleep there. That’s where I’m sleeping.’ Michael said. You opened your eyes and rose up to a sitting position feeling annoyed.

‘Let her sleep there, god.’ Trevor piped up, sounding annoyed too. He was looking at his phone.

‘I was here first, I mean I was _stuck_ here fi-’

‘Shut up. Unless you want to sleep with me.’ Trevor said seriously while looking at him. Michael coughed and then threw his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with his foot.

‘Or you, dear?’ Trevor said, turning to you and smiling.

‘Um...' You mumbled.

‘Here.’ Michael said, walking over to and handing you some money. ‘Get a motel for tonight, until we sort this out.’ You smiled gratefully.

‘Jeez, always using money to swoon the ladies. That’s not how you do it.’ Trevor laughed. He then walked over to a cupboard and pulled out a jerry can, presumably gasoline? You ignored him and counted the money in your hand, $150.

‘Holy shit.’ You said, looking up at Michael.

‘My pleasure.’ Michael said.

‘Yeah right, he just wants to have me all for himself, that’s all.’ Trevor rolled his eyes.

‘Whatever, T. If my card details were at the motel, Martin could find my name. They don’t know your name, only your pretty face.’ Michael said, pointing at you. You cringed.

‘I’m just going to go now…’ You said, reaching for your bag. ‘I’m pretty tired, so.’

‘Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow. We might be able to move on the bank score.’ Trevor said.

‘Thanks.’ You smiled, walking over to the door. Michael moved out of the way for you and you walked out.

‘By the way, you totally were welcome to sleep in my bed, but my dearest Patricia is sleeping there. I don’t sleep much, really.’ Trevor said to you.

‘Yeah, okay then T.’ you shook your head and walked away. Michael pulled out his phone and starting dialling someone.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The text woke you up. ‘Meet us @ the lab. End of Algonquin bvd liqour store. 4 bank heist baby’ Unknown number. Obviously Trevor. You were wearing the same black T-Shirt and jeans you’d had on for the past two days. At least you’d showered, however. You walked down Algonquin Boulevard keeping an eye out for the liquor store. You weren’t sure what he meant by lab. You found what you thought was the place, after almost turning back as you thought you had went too far. A white car pulled up beside you. An African American guy with an LS hoodie came out of the car.

‘Sup.’ He said. You walked towards the store.

‘Hello?’ He repeated. You stopped in your tracks.

‘You’re talking to me? Sorry!’ You said quickly.

‘Yeah dog, I’m talking to you. You the girl Trevor was talking ‘bout, right?’ He asked.

‘He talked about me? Sorry, erm who are you?’ You asked awkwardly.

‘I’m Franklin. I work with those morons.’ He held out his hand. You took it and shook it.

‘I’m (y/n).’ You smiled.

‘Nice. He said you good with computers and shit, yeah?’ He asked.

‘Sorta.’ You replied.

 

Franklin walked in the store and behind the counter. You followed him up a set of stairs after you passed through a few doors. You could already hear Trevor’s voice roaring.

‘Argh! She’s fifty-seven! And she thinks that I’m mature.’ He shouted. You frowned, wondering if he was talking about you. You were not 57.

‘Yeah well let  me tell you something!’ Michael pointed at him. You hid behind Franklin slightly. Franklin looked as confused as you did.

‘Thirty years of marriage to the world’s angriest mob boss would make anyone insane! You’re not making my situation any easier!’ Michael shouted, pacing through into the other room. He’s talking about Patricia. You glanced around this place. It was torn apart, there were remainders of walls and no doors. You saw a table in the other room which made you now understand the term ‘lab’. This was some sort of drug lab. It explained the chemical smell.

‘Ohhh! There’s a surprise! I knew it would become about you!’ Trevor exclaimed, pacing back through to the room you and Franklin were in.

‘I miss my family!’ Michael shouted.

‘Oh, you’re full of shit. All you ever did was ignore ‘em and now that they’re gone, you miss ‘em. Fuckin’ incredible.’ Trevor shouted, turning away again.

‘I’ll tell you what’s incredible, fuckin’ incredible-’  Michael screamed, following him.

‘Ey!’ Franklin shouted.

‘You mother...’ Michael continued.

‘Hey!’ Franklin repeated.

‘WHAT?’ Trevor shouted.

‘ENOUGH! You got me out here. You roped me into your crazy world of bullshit!’ Franklin shouted. You couldn’t help but flinch at the thought that what he was saying could be you in a few weeks.

‘If it was lies, new age shit, and arguments about how good life used to be, I coulda stayed my ass in Los Santos!’

‘Hello Franklin.’ A man sitting on a chair looking at a laptop turned around. That must be Lester.

‘What’s up.’ He replied.

‘Alright. Here’s the shot.’ Michael shifted on his feet. You walked out from behind Franklin and stood in between him and Trevor.

‘We’re going to Paleto Bay, and we’re gonna do this thing. Any questions? Comments?’ You were about to ask but Trevor interjected.

‘Yeah. I miss Brad.’ He rose his hand. ‘If that crazy motherfucker was here now, he would have loved this. Instead he’s got to enjoy himself molesting white-collar criminals in a federal penitentiary.’ Who the heck was Brad?

‘Thanks for sharing.’ Michael said bitterly. ‘Anybody else.’ You were again going to ask but Franklin interrupted.

 

‘What about me?’ He asked.

‘And me.’ You added. Lester looked up at you as though it was the first time he’d noticed you were here. He looked as though he just ate something sour.

‘You’ll be waiting for them by the river. Handling the getaway. ’ He pointed to Franklin, shutting his laptop.

‘And you, you can go with Franklin. Defend him or something.’ Lester waved his hand in dismissal.

‘Woah, defend him? What? I do computer shit.’ You said suddenly.

‘Well, you’re too late. Your spot’s taken.’ He pointed to himself. ‘You either help Franklin or don’t go at all.’  You needed the fucking money.

‘What do I need to do.’ You asked.

‘Well, you could… let’s see. You could take a sniper, climb up onto a roof of a nearby building. Take out anyone who is getting these guys in trouble. They won’t see you, but a chopper will clock you. You have to either hide, or take it out. By the looks of things, you’re not exactly experienced.’ Fuck. You weren’t a gunman. You didn’t even know how to shoot. You didn’t want to kill anyone. If you pretended they weren’t human, maybe you could. Trevor would probably think they’re not human anyway.

‘Or?’ You asked tentatively.

‘Or you could go with Franklin. Face the cops head on, you’ll need to be even better with a gun but there’s two of you. You’re in charge of getting Michael, Trevor and Chef-’ He pointed to the other gunman that they must have hired. ‘To the boats.’

‘I don’t want to face cops head on.’ You didn’t want to be alone either though.

‘I’ll snipe… on the roof.’ You swallowed hard.

‘Good! Good. You’re a strong woman! I love it. You may get an alright cut of the score if you do well.’  Trevor said. You just bit your lip.

 

‘Now, these three go in. They grab the take. They rendezvous with you-’ he glanced at Franklin, standing up and hobbling on his walking stick. You didn’t know what disability he had, but he didn’t look too good. ‘You meet back with them.’ He pointed to you. ‘And you get out of there.’

‘Does that work for everyone?’ He asked. Everyone raised their hands in acceptance.

‘Great. Let’s go.’ He said, walking out of the room. The others followed. Franklin glanced at Trevor as he waited behind a little.

‘Hey. You’ll be fine.’ Trevor said to you. He didn’t sound reassuring though. He handed you a massive rifle which you took, but found hard to carry. He then scrambled through a cupboard and pulled out a camouflage printed vest.

‘It’s bulletproof.’ He said, handing it to you. You took it, trying to act confident. He must have looked right through it.

‘Don’t. Worry. Just look through the scope, hold and pull the trigger. You’ll probably jump back a little, that’s okay. Make sure you’re not in plain sight. A sitting duck is useless on our team.’ Trevor said. He sounded excited.

‘Okay.’ You replied, your voice barely louder than a whisper. He followed you down the stairs, you stepped into the white van with the rest of the guys.

‘Let’s get this done. Paleto Bay.’ Michael said.


	6. Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been forever! I'm so sorry! This took me ages to write - but not because it's good or anything. I literally have just procrastinated so much in the past month; school work and all. Anyway - I hope someone can enjoy this. (Psst. I'm not very good with low dialogue and high action.)

 

VI

 

The whole journey you sat with your eyes on your lap where your phone lay. The guys were all sharing their experiences of their first bank jobs. Trevor was laughing at Franklin, while Franklin scowled. Michael was looking in the mirrors, gripping the steering wheel with two hands. Chef was smiling half-heartedly at the discussion you were not taking part in. You felt totally out of place, which you hated. You tried to act as though you belonged, puffing your chest out, positioning your jaw so it did not look like you were trembling, slightly furrowing your brows in concentration. You were coming up to Paleto Bay pretty soon.

‘(y/n). You found a vantage point?’ Michael cleared his throat.

‘Yeah, actually.’ You replied, looking up from your phone.

‘Looks like there is a ladder leading up to the roof of a Cluckin’ Bell factory. Only a street or two away, you think you could drop me off there?’

‘Yeah, sure. Don’t get spotted, okay?’ He caught your eye in the mirror. You nodded sharply. Be cool. Be brave. Be cool.

 

You had passed Procopio Beach and entered Paleto Bay. The small town looked quite nice; there were fields to your left, the sea to the right. Not much else, however. Mount Chilliad was really close, it towered over the town. You had never felt intimidated by a mountain before, but maybe it was just your nerves.  Franklin was dropped off first. You were next. Michael took a U-turn after dropping off Franklin, taking you in the direction of the giant Chicken mascot. He turned left into the factory area, passing a few workers in lab coats. God, you were glad you didn’t eat Cluckin’ Bell often. They looked like they worked in a fucking lab - where they’d inject the chickens with growth hormones and feed them steroids until they were old enough to have their worst parts blended into chicken nuggets. Disgusting.

 

‘The ladder is just around the… oh.’ You trailed off, seeing a fence in front of you.

‘Fence?’ Michael asked impatiently.

‘Yeah…’ You muttered. It was definitely too tall to climb. Shit, you hadn't fucked up already, had you?

‘Just fucking ram it, M.’ Trevor shouted, agitated. Michael looked over his shoulder at you and Trevor. You looked back with panicked eyes. Michael sighed then pushed the accelerator slowly, edging towards the fence. The metal clinked with the hood of the van as Michael pushed the accelerator stronger. The fence gave way, and it toppled over. Luckily the lab-chickens didn’t notice, so you slipped out of the van, holding onto your rifle and hiding it under your arm.

‘Good luck.’ You said. You watched as they drove away.

 

You walked around to the right, you were behind the factory. The satellite pictures were older obviously; the place didn’t look the same as it did on your phone. It didn’t matter though. You approached a set of wooden planks. Well, now or never. You pulled yourself up onto it, and then pulled yourself up onto the roof. This just reminded you of being a kid, so you smiled. Then you frowned immediately, remembering what you were really doing. There was then a larger climb onto another roof. Your arms were hurting now; you had to pull your weight up as there was no support for your feet. You walked wearily over the roof till you found a rusty old ladder. Great, more climbing. You then realised once you’d reached the top, it was in fact a dead end. You climbed back down.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ You muttered. You then heard the guys on the headset, shouting. It’s begun. Better hurry up. You jogged along the roof, to the front of the building. Okay, okay. AC units.

 

You took refuge behind an AC unit, and took a few shallow breaths. You pulled out the gun, and looked through the scope. It took you a few moments to realise what you were looking at. Your eyes focused. You saw, very far away, the blue and red flashing lights. God if only you were closer. You then saw it. And heard it, on the earpiece. Chef, Michael and Trevor barged out of the front doors wearing crazy body armour. You heard Trevor laugh through the headset as he let all hell loose. He fired his mini-gun towards the police cars, and they exploded and were engulfed in flames within seconds. You couldn’t process it; there were real explosions in front of you. Like, Vinewood Movies explosions. It looked amazing too; this is a new level of fucked up. Within minutes, the helicopters started swarming in.

 

You turned the gun towards one, adjusted the scope so you could zoom in on it. It was hovering still, and you took a shot. You jumped back, but the helicopter did nothing. Nothing happened. You frowned, refocusing your eyes on it. You then found the pilot, and aimed. You took another shot. Shit, this was way harder than it looked. You aimed again and tried to concentrate. You were good with intricate things, you did art in college and always got the tiny details spot on. Your diabetic mother had taught you how to inject insulin, how to hold the needle steady. This is the same thing. It’s… the same thing. You gulped air. You held your gun steady and pulled the trigger. You jumped back again, this time the chopper started spinning as it fell to the ground. It exploded in a bright blaze and you grinned. You pushed back the guilt of your first murder to the back of your head; so far - this was surreal to you. You heard the guys asking if that was you over the headset, but you couldn’t reply. You were too excited. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins. You then heard the headset make a loud crackling noise as Franklin’s voice shouted through it.

 

‘Dude, police are all over the boats! We need a new getaway. Dog? Anyone there?’

‘I’m, I’m here!’ You pressed it to your ear, trying to hear better over the gunshots and explosions. You looked out towards the direction of where Franklin was meant to be.

‘I see a bulldozer! It’s in some sort of construction area.’ You said uncertainly.

‘A bulldozer?’ He shouted in reply.

‘Fuck, I don’t know…’

‘Naw, thanks dog. I’m gettin’ it!’ He responded. You smiled slightly and then pulled up the gun again.

 

Trevor, Chef and Michael were weaving in and out of lanes and streets to evade the cops, but they were becoming sheltered by buildings. You could not keep a watch of them from here and you needed higher ground. You could hear the blades of helicopters whirring nearby as you rose to your feet and turned back towards the ladder you saw a while ago. You clambered across the roof and then after throwing the rifle above onto the ledge, you swung one leg onto the ladder and pulled yourself up the steps quickly. Retrieving your weapon, you jogged along the walkway till you got to a short fence. You had to climb over it, landing onto a large container a few meters below, your knees hurt due to the impact. The previously invisible helicopter suddenly appeared out of nowhere, flying above your head at a dangerously low altitude. You stumbled and lost your balance as you tried to move out of the way. Your heart was pumping so hard by now; you couldn’t help but think guiltily **_this is fun._**  Luckily, you didn’t think that the chopper had spotted you - yet. You saw a small room across the roof with an empty space where a window must have been long ago. You headed to it, keeping low and quiet, though it wouldn’t have mattered. There was so much noise going on around you. You jumped into the room which gave you just the right angle from out of the window. By this time, the others were at some sort of construction site, and Franklin was heading over with the bulldozer you pointed out.

“Shit, T! T! They’re flying in a tank!” Chef shouted through the headset. You looked up and saw a helicopter flying in a massive fucking military tank. You heard Trevor groan loudly through the headset, and saw him fire his minigun in the air at the helicopter. It was moving too fast for him to get a good shot, but here…

 

You reloaded the sniper, and then quickly placed your target on the pilot. It was going to whir past you any second but you held it steady and fuck, you took the shot. The glass shattered and the pilot slumped over the controls. The helicopter then spun around, torpedoing into a nearby building. It exploded in a fury of flames, and the tank went down with it. You ducked behind the window, let the gun fall onto your lap and you breathed heavily. Fuck, usually you’d think the military and the police were the good guys. Saving the country from fucking idiots like them. Like you. However when Michael shouted “Fuckin’ A!” and Trevor shouted “Yes!” a weak sense of achievement washed over you. You picked the gun back up and rose to your feet to look back out of the window again. There was another helicopter flying in a tank to the right of you. Just gonna do it again… just gonna... You quickly took out the pilot and you felt the morbid déjà vu of murder replace the achievement as it crashed to the ground.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Franklin picked up the guys in the bulldozer and they were driving towards the chicken factory you were on top of. Chef had made it out a different way. The guys entered and worked their way through the building, taking down the cops that were swarming in the building from all entrances. You kept watch on top, taking down any rogue cops that were heading for the building.  They were going to jump the train that was going to be coming any minute. You were alerted that most of the cops in the building were down so you made your way down. You didn’t feel the pain when you leaped back down off of the roof. You just landed and edged along the wall to where the gunshots were coming from. The train was in sight. You leaned against the wall; the guys were in the room just behind you. You weren’t going to join them just yet because you wouldn’t be able to help close range with a sniper rifle. As the cargo train charged past, you saw your hair blowing around, but you didn’t feel the wind. You didn’t feel Franklin’s hand as he pulled you into the train. You didn’t feel the crash as you fell on top of him. You just felt numb and slightly nauseous.

 

“Fuckin’ A!” Michael shouted, backing up and leaning against the back wall of the carriage. His face was flushed red; his eyes were wide with excitement. Trevor was his mirror image, as he grinned and leaned against the wall directly across from you. His leg was twitching like mad. You silently wondered if it was the amphetamines or adrenaline. Franklin was sitting right next to you, and he looked the sanest in fact. His smile wide but his eyes tinged with worry, as he breathed out a ‘phew’. “You okay there?” He asked after he caught you looking at him. You were brought back to reality.

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded your head.

 

“You did real fuckin’ good for an amateur out there.” Trevor added. You looked over at him and smiled weakly. His head was lowered and his eyes were looking up through his brows.

“Thanks.” You said, leaning your head back. You looked back at him and caught his eye. He was still watching you and the corner of his mouth was turned up slightly,

“It was a good call bringing you; taking out those tanks was a good move.” Michael said, you broke your stare to face him. **_Yeah, but I wasn’t really taking out ‘tanks’_** you thought. **_I was taking out ‘people’ with ‘families’ and ‘careers in law enforcement’_**. However, you nodded your head anyway. You, Franklin, Trevor and Michael were all leaning against the carriage walls respectively. The ride was rickety and it shook your body, which was becoming uncomfortable. The door was still open, so you turned to the right and gazed out.

 

Your head was spinning as you watched the world blur at 60mph.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you if you are reading this, kudosing, commenting, bookmarking whatever! Thanks so much! It means alot.<3
> 
> You might notice that there are a few changes between "these speech quotations" and 'these speech quotations'. I'm trying to stop writing in the latter. Sorry. x3
> 
> Also; my spelling often auto-corrects to the American spelling of words from the British spelling when I upload on AO3... so sorry if there are some words in one and some words in another like 'armour' to 'armor' and 'realise' to 'realize'. Sorry about that also. c: Thanks.


	7. Probability

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trevor gets a little more sociable, in a normal, non-psychotic way. Sorta. 
> 
> [the paragraph spacing is slightly off in this one]

 

VII

 

 

The guys gave most of the money to these agents in the FIB. It was something about _funding_ for a future job with the FIB. The FIB needed this stolen money so they could afford to steal nerve toxin from Humane Labs and Research, since the IAA were planning a terrorist attack? It was a different language to you, but you got the feeling that those who you were working with were a lot more serious than they looked. And these FIB agents were so corrupt it made you wince at the thought that they were near enough in charge of the state. The government was fucked, society was fucked, everything was fucked. You had no idea how they got tangled in with them, but Trevor did not seem too happy about it. Trevor, Michael and Franklin took their cuts without gratitude, complaining about how little the amount was compared to the effort put in. Trevor took Franklin home, and you endured an awkward car journey back to Trevor’s trailer with Michael.

 

 

“How was your first score then?”

“Uh, fine.” You weren't going to tell him you still felt sick, and you could still see explosions whenever you blinked, and you felt horrible about yourself.

“A lot more professional than my first score, I’ll tell ya.” He filled the silence.

“Yeah?” You clung onto the hope of a conversation starter.

“Yep.” He concluded. You sunk back in your seat.

“How’s bunking with Trevor?” You offered. He laughed slightly.

“It fuckin’ stinks like piss and gasoline in there, (y/n). And it’s sweatin’ hot 24/7. How’d you think?”

“I can agree with you on that.” You laughed. Another silence.

“Uh, when do you think we can go back to the city?” You asked.

“ASAP. _Trevor_ and I will… find out some way to apologize for the Patricia situation.” He said, a hint of annoyance noticeable in his tone.

“And you’ll get her back to Martin?” You asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

“Yeah. His temporary ‘love affair’-” He quoted with his hand, “will be over.” You nodded.

 

 

When Trevor got back to the trailer, he explained to you that the FIB were taking a large cut. He then sat on the edge of the sofa and sorted through a wad of cash. You watched him flick through it with calloused fingers. 

“How much is that?” You asked.

“Well sugar, we got around one point eight million dollars - after the FIB stole the rest.” He said, still counting it.

“Holy shit.” You whispered.

“So that means Franklin, Michael and I got around…” He looked up to the ceiling, mouthing some numbers. “Four hundred K, each.”

“Lester gets around two hundred thousand.” He looked back down to the cash.

“How’d you count so fast?” You laughed.

“Crew cut would be the same. Around two hundred thousand.” He ignored you and selected a small amount of notes from the bundle.

“ _Congratu-fucking-lations._ Here’s a hundred thousand dollars.” He took your hand and placed the money in it, shutting your fingers over it. You looked down at it, mouth open.

“Oh shit. Thanks, Trevor.” You said, feeling the pale green paper with your fingers.

“Yeah.” He said, standing up.

 

  
“So why are you involved with the FIB?” You asked. He looked at you funny, and you immediately wondered if you should have shut your mouth.

“I mean if you- you don’t mind me asking…” You added quickly. He smirked, like he wasn’t going to answer you. Then he frowned.

“Fucking Michael.” He responded, starting to pace around the kitchen area. Michael was out driving, ‘clearing his thoughts’ or something.

“…”

“I don’t know if you know this, but he’s real fuckin’ shady.” He shook his finger, pointing at you.

“Right.” you said, nodding and prompting him to continue.

“He’s a snake, okay? He cut some fuckin’ deal with them, years ago. And now they’re threatening him, saying they’ll rat him out if he doesn’t do what they say.” He spat.

“Robbing banks and stealing nerve gas, being what they say, right?” You chimed in.

“Yeah.” He replied, gripping onto the countertop. You noted that you liked how animated he was getting, and how he wasn’t hiding any of his feelings. But you were also slightly worried, as he was breathing heavily with his eyes shut.

“What sorta _deal_ did Michael negotiate with them?” You asked. Trevor laughed, though there was no humour. He started walking towards you and then he sat down beside you. You didn’t even know why you were getting involved, to be honest.

“The sorta _deal_ where he fakes his own death to credit a FIB agent, so he can get placed in _witness protection_ and change his name, that’s what sorta deal.” He said, with a sugary voice so sweet it could rot teeth.

“Fucking hell.” You gasped, actually shocked.

“Yeah, fucking hell, right?” He replied, leaning back with his arms stretched above his head.

“Why the hell would he even…” You mumbled.

“So he could fucking abandon _me._ ” Trevor interrupted. “He went fucking _soft_. Knocked up a stripper and decided, ‘You know what; I think I’ll resolve my _problems_ and my inner _self-hatred_ by running away from _everything_! That’s gotta work, _right?’_ Well he was fucking wrong. I’m fucking here now.” He raised his voice which was thick with venom. You didn’t really know what to say.

“What, er, problems? Did he have?” You asked.

“I don’t know.” He groaned, lolling his head around. Well that makes fucking sense.

 

 

“What we had- it was good. What we had was good. We robbed liquor stores and small joints at first, but we got better. We met Lester, and he helped us so we could rob small banks and such. We were gonna do the…” He trailed off.

“The big one.” You finished. He looked up at you.

“You told me before, I remember.” You smiled weakly. There was a twinkle in his eye, before it suddenly turned furious.

“Yeah, then Michael met _Amanda_.”

“You sound like a jealous girlfriend.” You were risking it here, you realised. **_God when will I learn to keep my big mouth shut_** you thought.

“She _took_ him from me. Fuck no, Michael just left for _her_. No, shit!” He stamped his foot.

“I don’t know, but he _left_ me for a decade. I thought he was dead, (y/n).” He looked straight in your eyes.

“That… sucks.” You replied lamely.

“Yeah, it fucking sucks.”

 

 

He and you sat on the sofa, staring out into nothing. You stuffed your money into your pocket.

“I think I’ll go back to the motel now. Today was a real, uh, enlightening experience.” You said after a while.

“You’re going?” He asked, seeming a bit disappointed.

“Well we’re not doing anything.” You laughed.

“I can fix that.” he said suggestively, scooting over to you.

“Um Trevor, no.” You laughed, pushing at his arm, but it wouldn’t budge. You gave up and just sat there with him, his bicep pressed against your shoulder.

“It’s late.” You said.

“Time don’t matter.” He replied. The statement didn’t sound suggestive, just reflective. You were nearly in agreement with him. You didn’t care about time. You gave him a sideways glance. He was still looking ahead. You felt the heat radiating from his body. It felt nice. You hadn’t been this close to someone since you moved from San Fierro. You were used to feeling alone, but this foreign sense of company was growing on you.

 

 

“I killed people today.” You said. There was no reply from Trevor. You looked at him; he was wearing a bored expression. It conveyed the thought: ‘they’re just lives’ or something. Jesus, he didn’t feel remorse for that shit, did he? He truly was a sociopath. You became too hot, and you wanted to move away from him, but you were at the end of the sofa.

“I feel terrible about it.” You added.

“I remember when Michael first killed somebody.” He said. You then frowned. You were trying to tell him something and he changed the topic to Michael. You were about to add hastily that he seemed to be in love with him, when he started speaking again.

“He was real torn up. For days. I had to console him. We watched all these dumb old movies; he liked that shit- y’know? To take his mind off of it and everything.”

“Yeah, I know. Are you trying to ask me what you can do to take my mind off it?” You asked. **_Fuck, now I’m making everything about myself again, selfish brat_** you thought. No, you weren’t going to think like that today. Not today, you weren’t going to start this.

“Nah. (y/n), Michael still moped for weeks. Dumb movies and hookers and gettin’ real drunk didn’t help him. He just had to accept it. Move on.” Trevor said.

 

 

That was possibly the most reasonable thing Trevor had ever said to you.

“How do I go about doing that?” You asked, combing your hand through your hair and leaning back.

“Look at your money.” Trevor said, slapping your pocket lightly. “Ask yourself if it was worth it.” he said.

“I don’t know.” you mumbled.

“Shit, usually works for me.” he said, seriously. You laughed at him.

 

 

“My mom will be wondering where I’m at.” you smiled. Wait, did that make you sound dumb and young? you peeked at him. His frown was set in stone.

“Your mom?” He asked. You had a flashback to when he called you ‘momma’ when he was drunk. Had you hit a nerve? **_I should change the subject_** you thought.

“Yeah. I’ve not been home in ages. It doesn’t matter.” you rushed.

“You live with your _mom?_ ” he asked, sounding disgusted.

“Oh, no! She lives in San Fierro. I used to live there. I moved to Los Santos a month back. She calls me every few nights.” you explained, laughing slightly.

“Thank fuck, so you’re not too young to hit on.” He breathed a sigh of relief.

“I wouldn’t say that.” You raised your eyebrows.

“How old are you, then?” He asked, grinning.

“How old are you?” You challenged.

“Probably too old for you.” He responded.

“Is that stopping you?” You tested.

“Probably not. How fucking old are you?” He asked, with a tone of finality. You mumbled your answer and turned around, facing away from him.

“Sorry, what?” He smiled, totally cocksure.

“Twenty. Three.” You gritted your teeth, knowing he was probably more than double your age, and feeling guilty that you were even deeming his flirts as normal. This situation was so fucked; you didn’t even know what was normal anymore.

 

 

“Wow.” He leaned back, still grinning.

“Fuck off, what are you?” You play-shoved him.

“What am I? Surprised you’re keeping this going.” He laughed loudly.

“Oh shut up.” You laughed, getting up off of the sofa.

“No, no come back.” He laughed, pulling your arm.

“Tell me then, _old man_.” You opposed.

“Ouch." He hissed, "I guess I deserved that.” You sat back down next to him again, waiting, eyebrows arched. You were sitting even closer to him this time.

“I’m… probably in my forties.” He said quietly, but you heard it perfectly since he was right next to your ear. You weren’t shocked, you looked away slightly.

“What do you mean by ‘probably’?” You asked, feeling his body heat radiating again.

“It doesn’t matter. Age doesn’t matter. I already said, _time don’t matter_.” He muttered. You felt his breath on your neck.

“So what do you think?” You asked after a pause of acknowledgement while staring at one of the dirty posters he had on the wall.

 

You found yourself staring at a model’s ass - noting that Trevor was so close next to you - since you felt like you had to look at anything except him.

“What?” He barely whispered. He touched your hair. You shivered slightly.

“Are you probably too old for me?” You responded, shaking off any fear and putting on a smug smile while turning to face him again. You looked straight into his eyes as he murmured,

 

“ _It’s probable_.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. That was something. Did Trevor and Rea do the frickle frackle after this? Who knows. I am deeply apologetic for even using those words.
> 
> (I used the age 23 because I felt like it fitted 'reader''s background, It may be way off for some of you [ me :) ] - or maybe accurate. I'm not sure. Sorry.)
> 
> Hope ye enjoyed. :3


	8. Black Lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this has not been proofed, i was in a rush!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE comment if there are grammatical or spelling errors and i will fix!! pleaaaaassssssssssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
> 
> thx for reading and/or sticking around :)

 

VIII

 

 

He was on top of you. One arm was looped under your back; the other was drifting lazily from your chest to your face. He was kissing you desperately, holding on to whatever he could.

 ** _Late forties. Must be late forties_**  you thought.

You brought your hand up to his shoulder, which he then grabbed and held above your head.

 ** _He doesn’t smell THAT bad - maybe he showered since the last time you seen him?_** you thought, silently hoping but not really believing.

His kisses were needy, but you felt needy too. They were becoming deeper.

 ** _I’m not exactly going anywhere, you’re holding me down_**  you thought.

He moved his other hand from behind your back and grabbed your ass unexpectedly. You jumped a little, moaning into his mouth. It was getting really hot. He kept his hand there while grinding against you. You were both still fully clothed but your shirt was riding up. You squirmed underneath him, trying to move in sync with him.

**_This is really fucking happening._ **

He removed his hand from behind you and used it to unbutton your jeans hastily. You gasped as he slid his hand down your pants.

“ _What_. _The fuck_.”

 

He was still making out with you when the door opened. He was still rubbing his hand against you when the door hit the wall. He was still on top of you when you glanced to your right and saw Michael standing in the doorway, wearing an expression of shock and disgust. You broke the kiss. T didn’t notice until you quickly brought your hand from behind his back and used it to push at his chest, while turning your head from Michael.

“Shit.” You whispered, your face burning red as Trevor looked down at you in disappointment. He was still holding your other arm above your head. You tried to get up but his weight on top of you was too heavy.

 

“Trevor?” Michael shouted, his voice raising an octave as he finished his name. You looked away from Michael, utterly embarrassed. That was finally when Trevor looked at Michael and removed his hand from your pants. He didn’t say anything, just squinted at him.  
“I leave you for one fucking hour…” He started, putting his hands behind his head. You twisted away from Trevor as soon as he let go of your arm and you pushed yourself up. You buttoned your jeans again, not daring to look Michael in the eye.

“Ugh, god-” Michael mumbled, frowning and looking away.  
“Hey, Mikey! How was your drive?” Trevor grinned.

 “First you’re after pensioners then you’re after the underaged? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, T?” Michael snapped.

“Will you keep it down? Patricia’s sleeping.” Trevor whispered, jerking his thumb towards the bedroom area.

“I’m not underaged.” You protested, removing yourself from Trevor and standing up on wobbling legs.

“That’s great, sweetheart.” Michael replied sardonically.

“Shut up.” You narrowed your eyes at him. He met your gaze with mild annoyance. You tugged at your shirt, trying to regain some modesty. Michael quickly looked at Trevor, wrinkling his nose.

“What are you T- a fuckin’ horny teenager? Can’t you get some self-control? God, why do you keep doing this?” Michael groaned.

“Doing what, Mikey? I ain’t done nothing to you.” Trevor spat, back to sitting position on the sofa.

“Pulling stupid risks, _Trevor_. If you keep pulling fuckin’ risks, you’ll get us all fuckin’ killed!” He shouted. **_Oh come on, how would this get us killed?_** you couldn’t help but think, but that’s not what Trevor chose to focus on.

“Oh, so you’re concerned about me now? Or are you concerned about your fucking self?” Trevor challenged, standing up now.

“Don’t you start-”

“Oh I’ll fuckin’ start this, Mikey.” They stood there, staring each other down.

 

“Trevor, leave it.” You said. He didn’t flinch.

“Michael.” You said, clinging on to some hope. Michael looked at you briefly. Then he started walking towards you, you instinctively took one step backwards, but then you froze.  You looked him in the eye, even though he was somewhat taller.

“I’m gonna give you some advice, (y/n).” He said. He looked you up and down, and you felt strange.

“Because his advice is THE best.” Trevor added sarcastically.

“Leave while you can. Don’t get tied in with Trevor. Things are complicated enough.” You saw his stern expression. **_Too late now._** The corner of your mouth twitched into an insecure smile.

“For you, maybe.” You laughed emptily, backing away from him towards the door. “I don’t have any ties.”

 

Trevor was smiling slightly, but you pretended you didn’t notice. Michael just looked at you with utter perplexion.

**_Yeah, Trevor told me._ **

He was facing Trevor. He looked like he was going to say something else. You didn’t want more abuse from him, you had a headache and you wanted to lie down.

“I’m going to leave.” You said after a brief pause.

“You sure? Would you rather stay here?” Michael chirped, facing you again.

“Funny.” You replied, opening the door and walking out.

The night air cooled you down and you were grateful that night wasn’t as burning-hot as day. You heard the door click behind you, and tried not to think about the conversation that may ensue between them.

 

* * *

 

 

 

"You need to pay upfront." A voice came from behind you. You turned on your heel to find the receptionist staring at you.  She was chewing on gum and seemed particularly disinterested, but her eyes still scrutinized you. You were surprised that there were people on shift at 2am.

"What are you talking about? I've stayed here the past 2 nights." You said impatiently.

"Yeah, I know." She had her hand on her hip.

"I payed the first night. I'll pay for last night and uh-"  You scratched your head. "Tonight's stay... tomorrow morning. Okay?"

"No can do. Risks of you walkin' out without paying." She smacked her lips together.

"What makes you think I'd do that?" You narrowed your eyes at her. Usually this wouldn't bother you, but you felt different. Like there was a reason for someone to treat you differently now.

"Everyone has to." She said defensively. _**Okay, I'm**_ ** _paranoid_.**  Then she added in a hushed tone, "But I've seen you, with that Trevor Philips. We _know_ what he's like." She said it almost with empathy. Like she was speaking for the whole Sandy Shores community, too.  ** _Okay, I'm not paranoid._** **  
**

"Uh." You laughed, folding your arms and staring her down. She stared right back at you.

"Fine, two nights. I'm staying in that room which I've already been in twice, in fact my things are still in there." You raised your eyebrows.

"I wouldn't worry about it being stolen, it doesn't look like anybody comes to clean the rooms anyway." You smiled. This woman had caught the tail end of your sleep-deprived moodiness. She ignored you.

"I'm adding on the price from last night's stay." She said, scribbling down on paper. 

"Whatever." You muttered. You were in the middle of thinking about how she had heard of Trevor, wondering when she'd seen you with him, what his town reputation was like - when she handed you the receipt abruptly.

"I assume you still have the keys." She said.

"Yes." You said, the weight of the day finally crashing on your shoulders. You pulled out the roll of cash from your pocket as you yawned, taking some money and handing it over. You then realised half-yawn that the woman's eyes were wide, staring at the cash you had just blatantly waved around. You stared back at her, stuffing the money back in your pocket. You made a mental note to sleep with the money close-by.

"En-enjoy your stay." The woman said. 

 

That night you lay down on the bed, with your money in your hand. You flicked the notes. You felt so tired, but you couldn't sleep. Thoughts were racing around your head, your conscience fighting for justice. You killed people and made out with a psychopath in the same day. New achievement. You rubbed at  your eyes, begging your mind to stop thinking just so you could sleep. But you couldn't. Unsatisfied with lying down in boredom, you found your phone and started texting someone.

'Hey, so I did a job?' You typed. You didn't really know what else to say, so you just sent it to Ricki. You were looking at the walls, noting the peeling wallpaper. 

'(y/n)' He replied quickly.

'Yeah...' You sent back.

'Wow. U made it. Well done' came after a minute. 

'haha thanks. What are u doing up this late?' You replied, content with talking to another person, even so through texts.

'Some1 uploaded whole of PRBG season 2 online!' 

'Is that porn??' you sent back, frowning.

'no p robo bubble gum is not porn. it's educational. japanese culture.' You got back after a few minutes.

'Whatever you say, nerd' You sent back, not believing him for a minute.

He sent you back some sort of emoticon. You placed your phone to the side of your head, staring at the flaking wall; not wondering how you got here - damn you knew. You made the choices, you decided to - like this whole scenario was enticing or something. This whole thing was never planned. However, working for tech in LifeInvader wasn't exactly planned either. You wouldn't have gotten the job if your cousin hadn't told his boss about you looking for employment.

You had dropped out of college and you really didn't want to end up working in the fast food industry, despite how some of your other college friends told you it isn't as bad as it sounds. Those friends were the ones who you don't talk to now, who couldn't give up their bad habits as easily as you could. When you told them that your cousin had got you in with LifeInvader, they laughed and told you that you were lucky that you went to that Computing Science class. After all, it was only... fuck, you couldn't even remember what classes it was that you used to not attend. Possibly a history class? Whatever, you went to that Computing class. You had experience and you told LifeInvader you had to stop the course half way through due to 'personal reasons'. They accepted you - somehow, you had no idea - and you got in. 

It's not _what_ you know, it's _who_ you know. Your cousin helped you get into that career. (Speaking of, that career had probably ended by now.) It was the same with this 'crime' thing, you guessed. You wouldn't have gotten involved in it if it weren't for other people. 

It was all so dangerous.

 

You eventually fell asleep, after ages of tossing and turning, in the early hours at around 4am.

You woke up briefly at what must have been morning judging by the light pouring in the window.You got out of bed, trudged over the window and shut the curtains. You fell back in bed.

At noon you awoke again, briefly erupting from the sheets in order to throw them off of your sweating body. This room did not have air conditioning. As soon as your head hit the freshly turned-over pillow, you fell sound asleep again.

 

* * *

 

 "Hey." 

You opened your eyes and a blurry Trevor was right in front of your face. You just stared back for a few seconds and then when you processed what was happening you suddenly jumped, scared shitless. 

He leaned back, pleased with himself.

"What the.. what the fuck?" You yelped, pulling your sheets up and covering yourself.

"I let myself in." He explained with a grin, dangling a room key in front of your face.

"Yeah, I saw that?" You said, incredulous. You didn't want to know how he got that key.

"Get up you lazy bastard. It's 4PM!" He shouted, pulling your covers off of you. You were still wearing clothes, luckily.

"You need to fucking change your clothes." He squinted at you.

"You're one to talk." You replied, seeing he was still wearing the white shirt and jeans.

"Here's a deal." He huffed sarcastically. "You change your clothes, I change mine!"

"Fine. We're going clothes shopping now?" You asked with a smirk, getting off of the bed. You took your money from under your pillow and stuffed it in your pocket.

"Oh no. I have a _better_ idea." He grinned. 

"Oh god..." You mumbled, putting on your shoes. You walked into the tiny bathroom to brush your teeth. He watched you. 

"You wanna brush yours?" You asked him, waving the spare toothbrush at him. He frowned at you.

"I'm serious." You persisted, with a toothbrush hanging out of your mouth.

"I take fuckin' scores, I take fuckin' hits... I don't take fuckin'  _hygiene_ choices." He folded his arms. You laughed, nearly spitting out the toothpaste. 

"No, come... come here." You mumbled. He trudged through, shoulders hunched like a child that had been told to eat his vegetables. You smiled, putting toothpaste on the spare brush and handing it to him. He stared at it.

"I swear, if this doesn't get me laid..." He muttered, snatching it off of you. He narrowed his eyes at it.

"C'mon, it won't kill you." You tried to say, but it just sounded like muffled noise.

He gingerly put it in his mouth and started moving it around. He maybe did it for around 30 seconds before you couldn't take it anymore. It was a hilarious sight and you had to spit out your toothpaste before you choked on it.

"Fuck off!" He spat the toothpaste everywhere. You had to clutch your stomach to suppress the laughter.

"Marmite tastes better than this shit." He spat the remainders into the sink. 

"Okay!" You laughed because it was obvious he was lying and just didn't like being laughed at.

"C'mon." He said, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the room forcefully. "Your turn to do what I say."

You felt as though you looked like shit, you hadn't brushed your hair and you hadn't washed your face, but it didn't really matter because you were with Trevor. As you passed the receptionist, who was looking very frightened, Trevor whistled to get her attention. It was obvious he already had her attention though.

"Hey, thanks for not phoning the cops!" He shouted, throwing the key across the room. It landed with a crash against her desk, and she jumped. She nodded nervously. You were a little bit surprised that she was actually still alive. You never knew anymore, just how volatile Trevor could be.

 

 

As you got into the increasingly-familiar red truck, you noted that you liked the non-psychotic and the non-broken Trevor. He was fairly pleasant, exciting, but still a goddamn animal. He flipped off someone that he cut off on the road, shouting profanely at the guy. You couldn't help but giggle. One part of your mind was saying: You are psychotic. Why are you with this maniac? He's old, and he's a murderer, a robber, a psychopath. But the other part of your mind was practically elated. You were actually living a little, and you didn't want to stop. 

He stopped the truck in front of his trailer. Great, that shithole again. The hazy memories of last night flooded your brain, like a tsunami of guilt.

"Out'cha get." He called, getting out and slamming the door shut.

You followed him into the trailer, not really sure what was going to happen. When you were inside, Trevor immediately walked into his tiny bedroom, ignoring the man who said "Hi T". He was sitting down on the sofa, playing with a radio. You stared at him. 

"Uh, Hi?" You asked tentatively.

He looked up through his thick-rimmed glasses and squinted at you. "Who- who are you?" He asked, looking scared all of a sudden.

"I'm (y/n), Trevor's..." You trailed off.

"Hacker? Or is it Gunman? Woo...man?" He rushed.

"He told me. Because I asked him. Because I saw you. I didn't know who you were. But this is you, right?" He laughed nervously, speaking in a hurried fashion.

"I wasn't watching you! I swear!" His eyes got all wide and he shook his head. 

"Shut the fuck up, Ron." Trevor shouted from the other room. You smiled awkwardly then backed away from Ron to join Trevor in his room. He was raking through clothes in the tiny wardrobe he had. He wasn't going to give you his clothes... was he?

"Here." He turned around, yanking something from the wardrobe, snapping a coat hanger in the process. He thrust it into your hands.

You held it out and looked at it. It was a dress. You felt the soft pink material. He wanted you to wear it, right?

"Don't fuckin' worry, it's clean. Patricia ironed it too." He said, still searching around in drawers. He suddenly then launched underwear at you. Female underwear. You caught it and looked at it, speechless. They were lacy.

"That's clean too." He added, scratching his head.

"These weren't... Patricia's? Were they?" You asked, looking around for Patricia. She was possibly doing the gardening again.

"What? No!" He laughed like you were ridiculous. "They're mine." He said, barging past you into the kitchen area. You walked over to the doorway and watched him get a beer from the fridge. He was always drinking, not that it really bothered you.

"What, you gonna be an ungrateful shit?" He said, after tearing away a chunk of the kitchen counter while using it as a bottle opener.

"No, no." You said, retreating back into the bedroom and shutting the door. Well this was an eventful afternoon.

 

You took off your old clothes and sat them on the bed. You removed your money from your pocket and put it in your bra instead, there wasn't anywhere else it could go. You put on the underwear and checked yourself out. You touched it. Black lace. Not half-bad. You didn't question why Trevor had them, it didn't matter, but he had good taste. You pulled the dress over your head, which was admittedly slightly too large for you. You touched the material at the slightly low neckline. You tried to zip it up, but it wouldn't budge. You tried and tried, still nothing. You felt hot and cold at once as you knocked on the door. 

"Hey, Trevor?" You called. He swung open the door in a few seconds and you jumped back, startled. "You look hot." He said bluntly, before taking the final gulp of beer. 

"Uh, thanks. Can you zip me?" You asked, turning around and touching your back. You heard the empty bottle smash against the ground, as he walked over to you in compliance. Of course he would comply, there was an opportunity to touch you. "I don't usually zip it up." He said. When his hands brushed your hair away from your neck, you shivered. "I just..." He tugged the zip down a bit, then pulled it up in one swift motion. "Leave it." His hands remained at your neck for a few seconds.

You swiveled around. "Thank you." You said.

You both stared at each other for a moment. His lip twitched. You wondered if he was thinking about what happened last night, because you certainly were. Then suddenly you gasped. 

"I get to pick your outfit too!" You practically squealed. He rolled his eyes. You laughed at how pathetic you sounded, but it was rather amusing. You looked around in the small wardrobe. There wasn't exactly a large variety of clothing. 

"I like this..." You muttered, pulling out a denim bomber jacket. "Reminds me of a pilot."

Trevor was looking away disinterested, but he suddenly turned around with a grin.

"You want to wear it?" You asked.

"Fuckin' sure. I'm a fuckin' pilot, after all." He replied. 

"What?" You laughed.

"I fly planes, helicopters. I'm a pilot! Trevor Philips Industries even has a company chopper!" He shouted. You just stared at him, jaw hanging open.

"Holy shit. That's amazing." His smile was infectious, and you beamed at him.

"I fuckin' know, right? The more things you know..." He smirked. You were glad things weren't awkward between you two, since last night, so you just smiled right back at him. 

 

Your stomach then rumbled loudly. You clutched it, realising you hadn't ate in forever. He laughed at you. Time fuckin' flies.

"C'mon. Vamos. Let's fuckin' eat." He clapped his hands together, and you followed him out.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took me so long to update, i was lacking in motivation :(( hopefully i can get back in the swing of things! ilu all! 
> 
> i just had to add the toothpaste part. we all have thoughts about trevor's hygiene. whether it's a headcanon that he SHOWERS regularly or BRUSHES HIS TEETH..... we can hope.


	9. Incomplete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've uploaded more garbage!!!! Yay. More SociallyAcceptable!Trevor. This is a short one.
> 
>  
> 
> (((((ALSO, THIS IS SO LATE I KNOW! Sorry. Lots and lots and lots of dialogue because i am trash)))))

 

 

IX

 

 

“Rockin’ the biker’s girlfriend look, sugar.” Trevor cooed.  “Love the dress and army boots combo!” You scoffed while stepping into the truck and eyed the new jacket he had on.

“Ha-ha. All I need to do now is become addicted to meth.” You replied. He started the engine and drove off.

“Well Trevor Philips Industries is your nearest supplier…” He chuckled. You raised your eyebrows. So Trevor Philips Industries was a… meth empire? It wouldn’t surprise you. He must cook it in the lab at that liquor store. Everything was _totally_ starting to make sense.

“Don’t worry, I can be the methhead.” He grinned.

“I’m relieved.” You said, rolling your eyes. “Where we heading?”

“Ahhh-uhhh-hmm...” He trailed off.

“What?”

“How about a diner I know. We can get burgers, and uh…milkshakes. Classic 50s – And there’s a jukebox and they _only_ play Love Fist. They have fuckin’ gorgeous waitresses, on rollerblades!”

“What, really?” You wrinkled your nose. Love Fist wasn't even 50s.

“No, I’m fucking with you. But I am taking you to a diner. A nice, bland, possibly infested by rats, diner.” He smirked.

“I can’t wait.” You laughed.

 

-

 

When you got there, it wasn’t as bad as you expected. Sure, the place smelled like a greasy mix of fat and bleach, but it was as good as it gets for Sandy Shores. After Trevor unsuccessfully sweet-talked the waitress, you both sat back in the booth waiting for your food.

You tapped your nails against the table. Trevor looked out of the window. Then he looked at the waitress. Then he looked at the menu. Then he looked at you. You wondered what he was thinking.

"What happened in the interesting life of Trevor Philips today?" You asked. He smiled slightly then his expression fell neutral.

"I robbed a freight train." He said bluntly. You narrowed your eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.

"You... did?" You asked. At that point the waitress brought over the two dishes: hamburgers. You smiled weakly in thanks.

"Yup." Trevor said, before taking a large bite out of his food. You observed him as he chewed loudly. Finally you exhaled and went to eat your own food.

"Okay..." You raised your eyebrows, and took a bite.

He dropped the burger and laughed while wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"What?" You asked. He grinned. He was acting strangely, not that there were many things that could be strange for him, but something was unusual about his behaviour. Him turning up in your motel room, taking you out for food, constant smiling... did he want something from you?

"You're just so quick to believe me." He smirked.

"Are you saying I'm naïve?" You frowned.

"What?" He scrunched up his face and flipped his hand in a confused gesture. "No, no. It's great! You're great. I'm just glad that you trust me." He took another bite and looked up at you with wide eyes.

"Oh." You smiled.

"You're lucky you can still trust people." He warned.

"Mmm." You mumbled, taking another bite. You were devouring the burger rapidly, and damn it was better than you expected.

"So was that some trust test or did you actually rob a freight train?" You smirked.

"Oh no that was 100% reality, my friend." He confirmed. You grinned manically.

"Tell me about it!" You gasped.

"Well," he swallowed. "We crashed a train, and got loot." 

"What? No, no. I don't think you understand." You smiled at him in disbelief, setting the burger down for a second.

"I've not been accustomed to this _lifestyle_ for that long." You placed your hands on either side of your plate and looked him in the eye. He smirked.

"I'm really interested." You continued.

"When I say 'tell me about it', I mean all of it. Everything!" You explained. He looked around briefly then smiled.

"Oh god, I love you. Why can't more people be like you?" He asked loudly, grinning at you. You laughed and shook your head.

"Okay, so I take over Merryweather's hot cargo, crash it into another freight carrier, whole fuckin' thing probably looks  _spectacular,_ " He rushed, most likely in relief from containing the information.

"I  _leap_ off the bridge, land in the water, swim to shore while all the cargo falls,"

"You leaped off the bridge?" You exclaimed.

"Mikey picks me up in the boat, and we get away with the gold!" He clapped his hands.

"Gold? I thought we just robbed gold!" You laughed. 

"Meh-" He shrugged. "It was more of a kind of... er-" He struggled for words. "Artifact." He finally said.

"Artifact? Jesus, I wouldn't have thought of you as-" You started.

"As what?" Trevor interjected, seemingly agitated all of a sudden. "The-the _cultural_ type?" He frowned, his mood significantly different.

"Uh,  _no..._ " You muttered, "... I just wouldn't expect you to have an artifact hanging up in your trailer, that's all." 

"Oh..." He frowned. His expression then went back to normal as he finished off his food in one bite.

 

"Well anyway-" He mumbled through chews, his mouth full. "You'd be right. I'm not keepin' it. We're givin' it to that fuck-monkey  _Madrazo_. Forgiveness for our sins."  _  
_

"Oh!" You gasped. "So you think I can get back into LS soon?" Your face lit up. Trevor's face did the complete opposite; he seemed to have sunken into his chair and his eyes went hazy as his expression became blank.

"No. Maybe. I-I don't know." He snapped. You studied his face.

"Something bothering you?" You asked quizzically. He frowned at you. Of course there was something bothering him.

"No. You can go back to LS all you like." He muttered.

"What, you don't want me to leave? Is that what this is about?" You frowned sceptically.

"Ah you self-absorbed fuck- no!" He shouted. You initially thought you should feel hurt but instead you burst out into laughter.

"Fuck off, you _know_ what's bothering me. Patricia will have to go." He said angrily. "She has to."  You suddenly stopped smiling.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't realise you and her... had... er..." You trailed off, lost for words.

"No, it's gotta end, I guess. It was stupid in the first place.  _Crazy_ , even. But the heart wants what it wants, right?" He said. You shrugged in acknowledgement.

"I agree." You said. You thought about what he said, and you realised it could apply to you too. Being with Trevor was stupid and crazy but... but you wanted this. Something inside of you wanted this. "I agree wholeheartedly." You sneered.

You looked down at the remainders of your burger, and pushed it around on the plate absently. There was some sort of hole in your stomach, some sort of emptiness- but this time it wasn't hunger. You looked up briefly to find Trevor watching you.

"You okay, dear?" He inquired with a raised brow.

"What? Yeah." You dismissed with a smile.

"Y'know, sometimes after you say something, you do this thing. You say something all profound, maybe sometimes even minimalistic- I don't know - and then you get this distant look in your eye." He said, his voice quiet. You looked at him and pressed your lips together, unsure of his observation.

"Now, I would say you're just being a hipster..." He smirked. "Oh god," You laughed, then pretended to look horrified, gasping and covering your mouth with sarcasm.

"But I'm serious. what aren't you telling me?" He continued, leaning over the table.

"Nothing, I swear." You smiled.

"Is it just the tremendous Trevor Philips life getting to ya?" He asked. _Possibly..._ you thought. "Look, I know it's hard. I'm ruggedly handsome **_and_  **intelligent simultaneously and-"

"Whoa there!" You laughed, partially stunned by his cockiness.

"What? It's true! Babe, you can't deny it." He winked. You rolled your eyes at him.

"Pfft, from last night? I know you can't." He smirked. You tensed up and laughed.

"Oh, are we not talking about that?" He lifted his hands. "Whatever, it doesn't matter." 

"I- er..." You started. Well, this wasn't meant to be awkward. Why were you making it awkward?

"I'm joking." He stated. You looked at him in confusion. "It does matter." He said. Your face burned up.

"Sorry, I- I'm confused." You admitted. 

"Well, evidently! You don't know what yer doing, do you?" He laughed. "I like you, stupid. I thought last night proved that, but you ain't even sending me any signals!"

 

Great, great, great. Awkwardness, confrontations, awkward confrontations... You bit your lip.

"I'm sorry. I've never been good at that shit. I'm a dumbass, really. I'm sorry." You explained. 

"Oh fuck off, will you stop with that? You're exactly like Michael. I thought you were confident, man! You sure as fuck looked confident when you shot down those choppers at Paleto Bay!" He said with a hint of bitterness, but his eyes were warm and concerning.

"Sorry." You muttered.

"Stop saying sorry, Jesus." He laughed. "You are not on death-row. I ain't gonna hurt ya." He smiled.

"Well unless you're into that-" He started.

"Oh god- T." You laughed. "Okay, to be honest, I didn't realise you  _liked_ me. Fucking doesn't mean you automatically fall in love an-"

"There was no fucking. I would remember." Trevor interrupted.

"...and I thought you liked Patricia. Why would you like  _me?_  It was hard to believe-" You dismissed humourously.

" **Because**! Because you're smart, you're loyal, you're brave, you're fuckin'  _hot_..." He listed the adjectives off on his fingers.

"Okay, stop! Stop! I'm not used to the compliments." You laughed.

"Well that's really fuckin' sad. I guess I'll just have to continue then! So you're good with a gun, you're gr-" He was cut off by you.

"Okay! Okay! Trevor, I get it! Thank you, so much. Seriously." You grabbed his hand. "I like you too." You laughed.

" _Thank you._ See? That's how you take a compliment. You don't get awkward, you be  _appreciative_." He explained.

"Okay Trevor." You mumbled with a smile. 

 

Even after the confrontation; you still weren't very sure what the situation was between you two. He liked you. You told him you liked him. But it seemed indefinite. It wasn't like suddenly you were in love with him, just because he got rowdy with you the night before - hell no. But you were becoming increasingly fond of spending time with him. He was a great guy, he was a psychopath. He was funny, he was disgusting. He was interesting, he was problematic. He was exciting, he was dangerous. He was an enigma. A human contradiction; a paradox.

Your relationship with him... it wasn't solid enough for you to conclude where it was going. Something was missing. This was a jigsaw puzzle and the pieces were scattered everywhere. Parts were missing, so it was incomplete. 

However, when you left the diner, he had his arm linked around yours as he dragged you out to the Bodhi. You were frowning, deep in thought.

When he grinned at you as he held the door open; you were smiling, deep in thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The Yellow Jack Inn at 7pm was something new. 

 

You hadn't been to a lot of bars, but from what you've experienced: usually small bars like that should be heaving with people, especially as that place may be the only bar that had a refrigerator in Sandy Shores. Bars are usually full of people getting drunk, possibly with some casual molestation taking place in the bathroom, and most presumably a few bar-fights and broken bottles.

However it was nearly empty. In fact, there were only two old men playing darts in the background - the occasional baby-boomer victory cry being heard from across the room -, as well as the barmaid who Trevor seemed to have known well, calling her "my dear Janet" which she dismissed with an "I thought I banned you, Trevor". 

She still served you alcohol.

 

"Is this too early to be drinking?" You asked openly, wondering why the place was so quiet, while stirring around the bright-red concoction she had given you.

"No, not if you're paying." Janet laughed.

"Never too early to drink. There's only too late to drink." Trevor commented. 

"Oh and when's that, Trevor?" Janet asked jokingly, wiping down the bar with a cloth. You took a sip from the glass.

"When I'm dead." He responded. She rolled her eyes at him and he grinned.

"Oh, god." You screwed up your face while trying to swallow what ever was in that glass. You wiped your mouth with your arm and moved the glass away from you. 

"What is in that?" You asked, trying desperately to get the petroleum taste out of your mouth. It burned your nose and your airways were not coping well.

"(y/n), that is Janet's special. Don't be insulting," Trevor patted your arm.

"What does Janet's special consist of, airplane fuel?" You coughed, wiping your eyes which were watering now.

"Sweetie, what you've got there is  _premium_ Sandy Shores liquor. We call it Red Lightning." She explained.

"You got your shot of gin, some vodka, strawberry liqueur, cherries-" She tapped your glass and you looked down at the two cherries.

"and of course our homegrown corn mash liquor." She smiled, leaning back. You frowned at her in comprehension.

"Wait, Moonshine? That's what's in this?" You laughed in disbelief.

"And, don't forget the secret ingredient!" Trevor interrupted. You faced him, waiting for him to continue. "Guess!" He pressed. 

"Sugar?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Salt." He shrugged. You wrinkled your nose.

The whole thing was a mixture of too sweet, too strong and too vomit-inducing to finish; so you slid it over to Trevor, which he downed in one gulp rather effortlessly. Instead, you settled for a Cuba Libre as it was the only drink that they had that would not have ingredients with paint-stripping qualities. 

You talked with Trevor and occasionally Janet for a long time, noting more people were coming in as the time passed. By 8pm, the place was looking more like a bar. Trevor had explained to you that the busiest hours are usually from midnight until morning. He just laughed when you asked him how he knew that. You were on your 4th drink now, and you'd lost count of how many beers Trevor had had. You were feeling happily buzzed and soft around the edges, listening intently to Trevor's stories after you had told yours to him.

 

"Oh, wow! So Michael  _really_  is into this 'son I never had' bullshit, yeah?" You laughed. Trevor nodded animatedly. 

"Crazy, right?" Trevor gasped. "So, I say ' _what, is he our son now?'_ " He laughed a little too loudly. "Our son, together. Me and Mikey. Mikey... and I." He snorted.

"Your son too? You have the son too, Trev?" You grinned.

"Me and Michael have a son, and his name is Franco." Trevor grinned cheerfully.  "Franklin." He corrected himself, then burst out laughing.

"What does he think about his dads, then?" You smirked. 

"I don't know, he probably loves me. But Michael? Michael's a shit dad." He waved his hand in the air, as though he was dismissing the thought of it.

"But Michael _has_ children." You frowned.

"Yes, and Michael is a  _ **shit**   **dad**._ " He brought his hand down to the bar sharply, making you jump slightly. You chuckled nervously.

"Alright, he's a shit dad. But would you be a good dad?" You asked curiously, but you were immediately distracted by something. 

 

Over the noise of people, you heard someone say something extremely familiar. Then you heard them shout it.

" _ **(Y/N)**_!?" You swiveled around in the bar-stool immediately, eyes wide in anticipation and worry, sobering immediately.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this even though not a lot happened, the next chapter will be uploaded reallyyyy soon ((sunday/monday/tuesday)) maybe a little bit of smut don't kill me 
> 
> Please leave me a comment if you liked, it really means a lot and motivation is desperately needed. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3  
> Thank you, I love you all


	10. Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had this sitting in my drafts. I finally just clicked the post button.
> 
> Lengthy one today!  
> Little bit of history, little bit of argument, little bit of something else.
> 
> PS/ I can't do smut
> 
> ((I just gave away the something else))

X

 

 

You were met with a girl with long black hair, her jaw was hanging open. Suddenly a smile crept onto her lips. She recognised you, and you recognised her. 

"Kat?" You asked tentatively, completely shellshocked.

"Oh my god!" She squealed, moving over to you quickly and enveloping you in a hug. She smelled like cheap wine and perfume, but she was your friend, and you were happy (if not confused) to see her. You couldn't breathe for her faux fur coat, and it was then you realised just how out of place she looked in this area.

"What are you doing here?" You pushed her back from you by her shoulders, staring at her face. She smiled hazily back at you. She was... totally drunk. You were about to repeat the question but she suddenly moved into your face and tried to kiss you. You turned your face immediately, making her kiss your cheek instead, and Trevor whooped in the stool beside you. You pushed Kat back again and glared at Trevor. Kat turned to look at Trevor slowly.

"Aren't you gonna introduce us?" He piped up, one elbow leaning on the bar-top holding his head up and the other arm holding his beer. You stared at him for a brief moment.

"Trevor, this is Kat. She was my..." You looked up at her, "...friend from college." 

She laughed and waved at Trevor, who seemed completely entertained with the scenario.

"Hey,  _Trevor_. Are you (y/n)'s boyfriend?" She grinned. You shot her a look but you didn't say anything; because she was drunk, and you hadn't seen her in months. Trevor's smile grew rapidly after her question, before she turned to you and whispered,

"Isn't he a little  _old?_ " 

"Hey!" Trevor sat up straight, defensively looking between the both of you.

"Kat- I... What are you doing here?" You repeated.

"I will  _answer_  you that, right after I go to the  _restroom_. Okay babe?" She smiled, turning on her feet and walking off, unbalanced, in the direction of a restroom. You watched her go in disbelief, your mouth parted and eyebrows raised.

The initial sobering, shocking hit had passed and you were back to feeling pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol.

 

"Well, fuck me sideways." Trevor's voice cut through the pause in conversation.

"Exactly. What the hell." You shook your head. 

"Hey, is she single?" He mumbled, touching your arm. You turned around sharply to meet his eyes and he burst out laughing.

"I thought you liked _me_." You laughed.

"I do. I like that crazy-drunk chick too." He grinned. You rolled your eyes, a part of you relieved that he was joking around.

"She wouldn't date you anyway." You smiled, turning around and trying to see if she made it to the restroom okay without falling over. 

"What does that mean? What's wrong with me?" Trevor laughed, however he was frowning and obviously wanted a real answer.

"I don't mean it like that, T. She likes girls, if it wasn't obvious enough." You explained. You expected him to laugh, and say ' _Oh, shit_ ' or something, but instead his smile vanished.

"Do you like girls?" He asked somewhat seriously. You let out an exasperated noise and turned to face him fully again.

"What, T? What does it matter? I like..." You trailed off. "You." You finished, crossing your arms over stubbornly.

"Okay, okay. I just wondered if you two were, you know..." He raised his eyebrows.

"Me and her? No. No, T. Are you... Are you jealous?" You asked suspiciously.

"Huh? Jealous? No, of course not!" He laughed, but you smiled back as though you had just discovered something hilarious.

"Oh my god, you're jealous. You're jealous because I have a lesbian friend?" You gasped in between laughs. It was so stupid.

"Shut up, I'm not jealous!" He shouted, becoming frustrated.

"That's so... that's so wrong, Trev. And quite typical of you, actually." You said, pushing your hair behind your ear and meeting his eyes.

"What?" He stretched his hands out into the air.

"I'm not going to date her. We are just  _friends_ , and besides, we haven't seen each other in forever."

"Okay, I believe you." He muttered, finishing off another beer. You smiled at him sideways.

"What does this mean, T?" You smirked.

"Fuck off, it means I believe you." He said, his voice conveying his impatience.

"No, I mean about us. Are we a thing, or something? That why you’re acting all defensive?" You asked. He stared back at you and a smile crept onto his face.

" _Or something_  sounds nicer, if I'm honest."

"But there is a  _something_ , yeah?" You asked nervously.

"Labels," He groaned. "I like you and you like me, can't we just leave it as that? We don't need validation from anybody, and we definitely don't need a label to define us, okay?" You smiled up at him.

"Okay, that’s fine by me." You grinned helplessly.

 

A few minutes later, Kat came bouncing back.

“Who want shots!?” She called, to nobody in particular.

“Mmmmmm-we do.” Trevor growled. “Janet, get us some shots.” He called to the barmaid, who was tending to other customers, so she glared at him.

“Let’s get this party started!” Kat shouted, before quickly tripping over you and landing into Trevor’s lap. You quickly pulled her off of him, much to Trevor’s disappointment, and supressed a laugh as you sat her down next to you.

“Okay, tell me everything now, Kat.” You said, making sure she didn’t fall off of her barstool.

“Okay. So, I was passing through San Andreas, right? I was going to Los Santos for business, I’ve not made it yet. I’m staying in this… fine area… tonight!” She explained with a smile.

“Business? I thought you worked in a-”

“Shhhhh.” She pressed her finger to your lip.

“Anyway, I thought, I should better call you since you’ve been living in LS. And I got your home number off of your mom, but you didn’t answer.” She pouted.

“I’ve been out of town, I still am.” You looked over at Trevor hesitantly, but he was facing Janet, telling her to ‘just put the shots on the tab’.

“Okay, well you should have told me! You didn’t answer your texts either.”

“I’ve been really busy.” You shrugged, smiling.

“I can’t believe I met you here! This is like, fate, or something.” She grinned.

“Totally.” You laughed.

“Ladies, if you will…” Trevor interrupted, sliding over a tray with 6 clear shot glasses. You laughed, in awe.

“And thank _you_ , Travis!” Kat beamed, immediately lifting two glasses and placing them in front of her.

“Trevor.” He frowned, and you giggled.

“Mhm,” She mumbled, as she lifted both glasses and downed one after the other. She slammed them down and exhaled sharply, shaking her face around.

“You’re a tough one, ain’t cha!” Trevor bared his teeth, and you weren’t sure if he was annoyed or aroused.

“Trevor, I don’t know if I can drink this-” You started, picking up one shot.

“Oh, c’mon. You’ll be _fine_.” He said, taking his and swallowing it. You raised your eyebrows. Nothing to lose. You first took a sip, but then you realised that was the wrong choice to have made. You squinted your eyes and then quickly took one shot after the other.

“Oh, god.” You spat.

“’Atta girl.” He patted your back, as he took the last one.

“This room, is literally spinning.” You commented, pushing the glasses away from you.

“Best way to have a room.” You think he smiled, but you weren't sure because your eyes were pressed shut.

"So, you, Trevor." Kat reached across you and tapped his arm, "How did you meet my lovely, lovely, friend?" You smirked and folded your arms, waiting to hear his answer. He smiled back at you slyly.

"We met in this wild orgy at some-"

"No! No, we didn't Kat!" You shouted, reaching over and desperately trying to cover Trevor's mouth. Trevor and Kat were laughing.

"We met through work, or something." You muttered.

"He works at LifeInvader?" She gasped, "You work at LifeInvader?" She turned to Trevor and asked him.

" _You_ work at LifeInvader?" He asked you, looking completely bemused. 

"No, not anymore - I told you this already, I just-" You tried to explain.

"You don't work there anymore?!" Kat exclaimed, grabbing your shoulder, her expression startled.

"No, I, God." You moaned. "It's really complicated, Kat. I'll try my best to explain it to you, another time." You said sympathetically.

"Will you?" Trevor inquired, making you face him. You frowned at him. _God_ , _you weren't going to tell her that he was a criminal and you were too,_ you just...

"Yes, she will." Kat peeked out from behind you to stare at Trevor. "She is my best friend, and I deserve to know what's going on in her life." She said, standing her ground.

 

You held your head in your hands, elbows on the counter.

"Yes, you do. And I'll tell you when we're less  _intoxicated_." You said, grasping her wrist. _  
_

"Mmm, and what're you gonna tell her, eh?" Trevor gritted his teeth, forcing a smile that looked way too suspecting. Your face starting burning.

" _What she can know_." You replied, trying to give him a look that said  _shut up_ , but failing as his eyes darted between both of you.

"Mmm." He groaned, his eyes wide, "So what's that then?" 

"Oh!" You threw your hands up, exasperated. You took a few breaths then said calmly, "Kat." You turned to her slowly.

"You're scaring me." She laughed nervously in a high pitched tone. You looked into her eyes.

"I'm on a journey of self-discovery." You tried to chose your words wisely, but the alcohol pumping through your bloodstream proved this difficult. You felt like you were speaking a foreign language. "Turns out, Los Santos is crazy, and I want to explore it." You smiled.

She blinked at you. 

"It's like there's something here, and if I harness it, I can gain omniscience." You bit your lip. Trevor was laughing and you ignored him.

"Big words, (y/n)." She laughed, looking around awkwardly.

"I feel like, there's something calling for me. There's something here, that's a part of me. I need to find it, and I'll find myself." You smiled, partly laughing at yourself and partly scared that she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, okay. That's totally cool, babe. Just stay true to your heart okay?" She smiled, reaching out and touching your hand.

"I sure will." You smiled.

"You enjoy yourself, just don't smoke any more pot. You are not going to be a hippie, okay?" She seemed genuinely concerned. You laughed at her, nodding.

Trevor started clapping his hands loudly. You turned slowly to face him.

"Bravo, bravo!" He called out, his hands rising in the air. 

"You," You said, grabbing his arm and pulling it down. "You're coming with me." You rose to your feet. At first your efforts of pulling him up were trivial, but then he finally complied and stood up. He towered over you but you still frowned at him. He mumbled something about you _'asserting the dominance'_ and you dragged him away.

"We'll be right back, Kat." You called, but she had already turned around and was talking to someone else. You marched outside, having to look at the ground to make sure you wouldn't trip over.

 

"Nice performance, really great act." He slurred, grinning at you stupidly. You tried to look angry.

"You, I can't believe you." You pointed at his face. He was now leaning against the outside wall, his leg bent and foot resting against it. His arms were crossed and he frowned at you, trying to comprehend what you were talking about.

"You were going on about  _trust_ earlier, weren't you?" You folded your arms across your chest. "Yeah, well where's the trust with me?"

"I don't know, what you're talking about. And it's not because I'm drunk right now." He muttered.

"You thought I was going to tell her, didn't you? You did. You thought I was going to tell her everything." You said.

"I did not say that." He shook his head with a laugh.

"Listen, I know you did not say that. Just lis-listen to me." You said.

"I chose to come into this area of work, okay? I chose, with my willpower. I just made hundreds of  _thousands_ of dollars," You whispered the last part, "from  _murdering_ the  _authorities_." You laughed.

"And I  _chose_ to do that. I can't complain about that, because I chose to do that. And I have to sit here, and  _lie_ to my best friend about all of this, because I told her I was moving to Los Santos to gain purpose." You exclaimed. "Purpose!" You laughed out loud. You were pacing now.

"What the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. I'm back to square one. I was doing nothing with my life, Trevor. Nothing. I had nothing to do, and I was wasting my money on drugs so that I did have something to do." You said.

Trevor's eyes widened. You raised your eyebrows.

"Yeah, drugs. You hear that? I was on drugs. Not just weed, oh god no. I did ecstasy, I did coke, I did LSD, I did them all, Trevor." You pressed your lips together.

"You proud of that?" He asked. You stopped pacing.

"No. My parents cried for me, every night, they'd call me. And I would scream at them. Kat? She helped me stop. She was one of the truest fucking friends I had back home, I swear. She helped me get clean, and I love her, so I'm sorry but you should be ashamed of yourself if you think that I shouldn't tell her."

 

Trevor was staring right at you, and it was making you feel uncomfortable. You wanted him to look away. You wanted him to kick at his feet and mumble to you, becoming bashful. But he didn't. He stared right at you, with this blank expression that you couldn't read and didn't even want to begin deciphering it.

"She helped me get out of that life, she was supportive when I told her I was leaving. She said she was proud of me, for sorting out my life and for doing something good for myself." You bit your lip. You were surprised you weren't tearing up. You were feeling confidently strong actually - even with Trevor Philips towering over you - while you stood outside in the cold, in that skimpy dress.

"But this isn't a fucking life, is it? You can't say _this_ is a life, Trevor." You said, outstretching your hands, trying to encapsulate - the essence of Sandy Shores' desert, Trevor Philips Enterprises, and everything it all stood for - with your fingers.

"Are you implying something?" He piped up.

"Most likely." You said, finally backing down and giving way a little, by glancing down at your feet.

"If you expect me to tell my best friend that I'm in the life, after her helping me get out of another one, you're..." You paused.

"If you think I'm going to tell my best friend who hypothetically _payed my life insurance_ and _drove me away safely_ , just to take a _U-Turn_ into another  _car crash_ , you should be more ashamed." You said.

"I should tell her, but I couldn't. That, is that." You sighed, rubbing your temple. 

"Why do I lie?" You mumbled, closing your eyes.

"You are a strange drunk, my friend." Trevor said finally. "You could speak for the country, my dear. How is your brain functioning?" He asked, reaching out to touch your elbow. You shied away from him.

"Sorry, there? I mean it. I. Am. Sorry. I didn't realise all of that  _backstory stuff_ existed." He motioned with his fingers.

"Everybody has a backstory," You snorted, "and I don't think my brain _is_ functioning. I guess I just say what I feel, instead of speaking incoherently."

"What's your backstory?" You glanced up at him.

"Woah, that is a story for another time." He chuckled, reaching out for your arms and this time you gave in. He pulled you closer to him, and you were about a foot apart. You swayed on your feet and started playing with your fingers. One of his hands was on your waist, the other hanging lazily from his side.

"Sorry for shouting at you." You said.

"I deserved it." He said.

"No, I don't know if you did. You could have just wanted to know what I was going to tell her, in a casual way." You said guiltily.

"I didn't know what you were going to say, if I'm honest. But now you've proved your loyalty." He smirked.

"Loyalty?" You laughed up at him. "I'm lying to my best friend who I owe the world to."

"You're loyal to me." He reasoned, "But you're right, you're being a De Santa to her."

 

You laughed into his chest, using one hand against him to steady yourself. He brought his other hand up to your waist to join the other behind your back. You were grateful for the warmth he was providing you with, as the night air was proving too cold for bare legs. 

"You know, I kinda liked you being angry." He said after a while.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled.

"That was different." He said.

"I wasn't angry at you, I was angry at everything." You shrugged.

"I like both," He said and he placed his head into the crook of your neck. You shivered and laughed simultaneously.

"It makes a change from me being angry." He mumbled into your neck and it tickled.

"You admit your perpetual anger?" You asked jokingly.

"I'm surrounded by assholes, (y/n). Of course I'm going to get angry."

"Why do you surround yourself with them then?" You smiled.

"I'm just surrounded by the assholes that I can't kill. Lately, all the people I can't kill are assholes." He muttered.

"Am I an asshole, or could you kill me?" You asked. The vibrations from his laughter shook you from his chest.

 

He leaned back to look at you. You looked up at him.

"Do you-" You were cut off as he kissed you. 

You pulled back. "You can't do that, I had a question!" You grinned.

"Can't I?" He asked, and you were about the answer but he moved in to kiss you again.

"Stop!" You laughed, pushing him away.

"Make me." He said.

 

You expected him to kiss you again, if not more forcefully, but he just stared at your lips. Was he waiting for permission?

You couldn't make him stop, if he wasn't going to do anything. You sat for a few seconds and then you gave up, taking over his role and pulling his face down to yours, kissing him. You bit his lip lightly and he raised an eyebrow at you, but he pulled your closer and kissed back fervently.

You tried to get as close to him as possible, perhaps making the kiss seem sloppier but you wanted him. His hands were on your waist, on your hips, back up to your waist again. 

You pulled away and took a deep breath. You looked flushed and Trevor looked pleasantly startled. 

"I've left Kat in there." You said. He didn't say anything, he was stroking the side of your face and looking disorientated. 

You turned on your heel, leaving him leaning against the wall, confusedly. 

"Kat-" You started, as you pushed open the door to the Inn. "Oh." You paused, as you found Kat making out with a short-haired blonde girl in the back of the place. You backed away. Best to leave her, then.

You walked back outside again, panting a weak "Thanks, Janet"  as you took a fifty out of your bra and placed it in front of the register.

You left, and walked into Trevor's arms, where you felt was the only place you should've belonged at that moment.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 You both crashed through the front door in a heap of grabbing hands and trembling legs. 

"Get the fuck out, Ron." Trevor mumbled as he pushed you backwards inside.

"Yeah, of course Boss!" The poor man replied, quickly departing the premises.

"Bed," You steered him away from the all-too-familiar sofa. 

" _Mmm_ ," He moaned into your lips, setting you down on the bed more gently than you would have liked. You clawed at his jacket to emphasize how you wanted things to go. 

He parted from you and discarded the jacket elsewhere, and you sat upright on the bed trying to brush away the cigarette butts and magazines atop the bed. You tried leaning over to get his T-shirt off, and he took it off himself.

He was quickly back down on you again and you mumbled "Get off, I gotta get those combat boots off" with a laugh.

He groaned and pulled away again, letting you slip off the boots. "Get those off while I'm at it." You waved towards his jeans.

"Look at you, Miss. In-Control..." He muttered, messing around with his belt buckle as you kicked off the last boot.

"Here," You leaned back over, throwing the belt aside and pulling the jeans off. You threw them to the ground and then got up on your knees.

You were both kneeling on the bed, facing each other and you looked up at him. He pushed your hair out of your face and you tilted your head so you could kiss him again.

He kissed you deeply, one hand behind your back. You had one hand on his face, and one hand trailing down from his neck. You let it graze over his shoulder, down his bicep and past his stomach. His body was actually rock solid. You didn't know if he was in shape because of the constant meth-energy spikes, or some other nameless activity he may be into.

Needless to say, your hand trailed down further and you felt him through the briefs he had on. He grunted and you pulled back slightly to breathe and mutter 'somebody's ready'. He suddenly pushed you away further. You looked up in surprise. He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around.

"I want my dress back." He growled, furiously tugging at the zip. 

"You're gonna break it," You whispered.

He yanked it down. Surely it was broken. 

You quickly turned around again and leaned back, wanting to have some control over yourself. You slipped the dress off of your shoulders and it fell to your waist. His eyes were trained on your chest, as he watched you. You pulled out your money from your bra with a smirk and Trevor smiled lightly. You leaned over and sat it on the bedside drawers. When you were back again, Trevor was still ogling you. You pulled the dress off of your hips and threw it across the room, it quickly becoming a new addition to the nice pile of clothing in the corner. 

"Hey," You said, "don't start without me." You laughed, pulling his hand away from his crotch. 

He stopped immediately and went for your bra, which you let fall away when he unclasped it. 

"God, I love you," He muttered, grabbing your breasts and stroking your skin.

"That's my tits, not me," You said, putting your hands around his back.

"I love all of you," He pulled back. "Every," He laid you down.

"Single," He kissed your chest,

"Inch." He finally planted a kiss on your stomach, before pulling down the black lacy underwear. 

"They looked better on you than they ever did on me," He laughed and you laughed with him. Any insecurities were easily blurred away by his words. Also probably blurred by the alcohol, but you didn't really pay attention to that detail.

"Hmm, I don't know," You smiled. He stroked your thighs and came back up to your face again, kissing you on the mouth.

"Get those tighty-whities off." You said sternly.

"Yes, Ma'am." 

 

When you came together again, you couldn't help but feel like the sense that you were missing something was now absent. You didn't feel empty anymore.

When he was moaning into you and you were kissing him desperately, the bed creaking underneath the weight of you both, you wondered if this was really what you were missing. It seemed ludicrous, but it felt right.

When he was whispering in your ear and you were above him - whimpering in response - you thought about what actually was missing from the puzzle, because you initially thought it was purpose.

When he repeatedly told you he loved you, he wouldn't leave you, he loved you - you considered him being your current purpose. He was all you had at that moment. 

So you held him tightly afterwards, accepting that maybe he was that puzzle piece to make everything complete. But maybe he wasn't.

All that mattered was that he was just what you needed. Even if the puzzle piece didn't fit, he seemed so right.

Right now? He was your purpose. He made you feel complete.

 

* * *

 

 

 

A few hours later, Trevor would leave silently and kiss your forehead.

A few hours later, Trevor would be late for the nerve gas job and say he was kept by 'Business, Michael. Business'.

A few hours later, Michael would bicker with him.

A few hours later, Trevor would not care. (Neither would you.)

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has not been proofed. Please call me out on spelling/grammar. Do it. Please. :-) 
> 
> Leave a comment/kudos if you liked, it means a lot. Thank you! Next chapter will be up in the near future.


	11. Don't Fear The Reaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long :( Lotta dialogue. I had to try and use my knowledge from GTA: SA and GTA IV for this. (It was quite fun, actually)
> 
> There might be spelling mistakes. I'm real sorry. I'll fix them soon if there is.

 

XI

 

Waking up with a heavy fog clouding your head, was not the most pleasant. The migrain-esque pain which enveloped your mind - followed shortly after wakening - wasn't warmly welcomed. In fact, as soon as you had awoken, you grabbed your head with both hands and pressed inwards to crush the pain. A short time with Trevor Philips had already gotten you wanting to decimate anything that caused affliction.

You turned over hesitantly and opened your eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the light.

A hazy memory of Patricia Madrazo shaking your shoulder, a few hours previously, and asking if you were okay entered your mind. She asked you why you were in Trevor's bed and if you were ill, you tried to get out of bed but she just said 'No, no, estás enferma!' and sat you back down again. That was an embarrassing memory, so you tried to push it to the back of your mind.

You looked around the room, feeling slightly disorientated. The bed was empty, apart from you. You recalled certain figments of the night before and you smirked slightly, before burying your face in the pillow. You pulled back and stared at it, as the musky smell was reminiscent of him.

Him. Where was he?

You got out of bed on unsteady feet and squinted your eyes. Walking over to the wardrobe, you decided the best idea would be to get dressed into Trevor's  _interesting_ clothing. Putting on a pair of sweatpants and pulling them up, you smirked at how baggy they were on you. You rolled up the ends then raked through in search of something decent for a shirt. You settled on a red plaid flannel, and you buttoned it up and rolled up the sleeves. After you put on your boots, being semi-decent, you walked out of the small bedroom. 

Nobody else was in, not Trevor, not Michael, not Patricia, not Trevor's friend Ron either. Which meant you were alone, in the dingy trailer in the desert. By yourself. You scratched at your head, not exactly knowing what to do. Your phone was in your backpack, which was in the motel you stayed at a few nights ago - which left you clueless as you sat down on the sofa. You thought for a few minutes, waiting around to see if anything was going to happen. Eventually, fed up, you rose to your feet and decided that you would leave. Fresh air would do you good, and you wanted to collect your stuff from the motel.

You stepped outside and padded down the steps, taking in the surroundings. The lonely silence of the desert was occasionally interrupted by the crickets chirping, or the low rumble of a tractor passing through town. It was surprising, really, how different San Andreas could be from the coast to inland. Some hours really made the difference in atmosphere, and those hours had also really made a difference in you.

Your time in the desert had really made you reevaluate what really mattered. Trevor hadn't fully converted you into somebody who was **_totally_ ** against the satirical, materialistic, commercialised hell that was Los Santos; mainly due to the fact that you were now a minuscule part in the utter mess that goes on in the shadows and underground. But the part of Los Santos which consisted of people that believe in Vinewood, celebrities and scandals... well at least you were not involved in that.

The sizeable walk to the motel gave you enough time to pretentiously contemplate on what you had left behind. The receptionist gave you a look that said 'I know who you are, I don't know how, and I don't like you' before your face obviously registered in your head and her eyes widened. 

"I'm just here to get my stuff." You cleared your throat. 

The receptionist nodded furiously and waved her hand in the direction of your room.

When you entered, it appeared just as you had left it. You started gathering your belongings. You found your backpack and put your phone in it. Sure enough there were missed calls and texts, but you threw it in your bag anyway. There was very little charge left in the thing. You grabbed some of the amenities from the bathroom and threw them in your bag too.

"Who doesn't like free shit..." You muttered to yourself.

When you were finally done, you hoisted the bag up onto your shoulders and shut the door behind you. You handed the keys in at reception, giving a brief 'sorry for the inconveniences' speech, but deep inside - you were reveling at the idea of her being inconvenienced by you and Trevor. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

You stepped back inside of the trailer and placed your bag on the ground lightly. You looked back up again and found an extremely irate looking Trevor glowering up at you from the sofa. You jumped a little, startled, and shut the door behind you.

"What?" You asked tentatively. 

His head was in his hands, fingers covering his mouth. He straightened up significantly and stood up, overshadowing you. He looked like he was going to say something to you, his arm rising and finger pointing like it does when he's angry, but he shook his head and backed off.

"What?" You repeated, less softly and more confusedly. 

He paced around the room, shaking his head and muttering to himself. He stopped and looked at you again.

"I- I just... Sorry, I thought you were gone." He said. You continued looking at him for a few seconds.

"Gone?" You asked. "I was away for 30 minutes." 

"I know, I just-" He turned towards the counter and used it to steady himself.

"If anyone was  _gone_ , it was you..." You smiled. He looked up at you and did not return the smile.

"She's gone." He said.

"Who's gone?" You asked, but it took one look from him for you to realise. It must have been his slightly more _similarly aged_ live-in housemaid, Patricia. You bit your lip.

"Ah." You said. You walked towards him slowly, closing the space between you both.

"Is she home now?" You asked. He nodded briefly.

"Good. Don't worry then. She'll be okay." You said quietly. He nodded again. He swallowed and you watched his Adam's apple bob up and down. 

"You wanna do something to take your mind off of it?" You asked hopefully. He raised his eyebrows at you, the slightest sliver of a smile forming. You hit his back and laughed.

"Not like that." You said, knowing where his mind was wandering. "What can we do that's fun? Besides robbing banks." You added sarcastically.

He leaned back from the counter and pressed his lips together in thought. 

"Why don't we go flying?" He asked. You smiled at him.

"Really?" You asked.  "Yes! That'll be fun." You grinned.

"C'mon then. I'll take you to the chopper." He replied.

As you were walking towards his truck, he playfully tapped your ass and mumbled "Nice clothes, by the way." 

 

* * *

 

 

 It took 15 minutes to reach the maximum altitude that you felt was safe (Trevor would probably have kept on rising for a lot longer). 

 

"This view is incredible." You said loudly, hoping to be heard over the loud whirring of the chopper blades.

"'S alright." Trevor smirked, flicking one of the nameless switches on the dash. You couldn't even begin to comprehend what any of them did, or how Trevor even remembered what any of them did - but he made it seem so effortless.

"Alright? You can see out to the city! Look!" You said, extending a hand south, towards the city that seems stationary - but you know really it is bustling with movement and people and things that you cannot hear from Blaine County. Trevor growled in agreement, as though he didn't want to talk about the city, but he still pulled on the cyclic so that you were both now facing it. It was covered in a thick smog, so it seemed hazy and distant - but the tops of skyscrapers were evident and you smiled briefly at how far away your current home was. Your smile faded as you thought of how far away your real home was - back in San Fierro.

"Hey, what direction is San Fierro?" You asked.

"San Fierro?" He repeated quizzically. "Probably due West. Thatta way, follow the ocean and beyond..." He turned around the chopper and you looked slowly, outwards into the ocean. From up there, the ocean just looked like a dark blue mass - you couldn't see the motion or sense the depth when you were looking down.

"You miss it?" He asked. You were slightly taken aback by the question, since he hadn't actually _asked_ you much about your past - but you didn't question it since you'd heard plenty about his past.

"Not really - I mean..." You trailed off. "You ever been?"

Trevor laughed, "No, no. I've been many a place - I'll tell ya. But not San Fi _erro_." He drawled the name strangely, tasting it on his tongue.

"Well, there wasn't much there. But it's nice. There's nice architecture, I guess." You smiled.

"Architecture." Trevor repeated slowly. You weren't sure if he was uninterested or not - so you continued.

"Yeah. I mean, there's boats too. And there's history. Not that I know much about." You said. 

"Ain't there cable cars?" He asked loudly.

"Cable cars? Yeah. Sure. We have those." You smiled, memories of the city coming back to you.

"There's the Gant Bridge, too. That's a real tourist attraction." You added.

"Hey - and more earthquakes." He nodded his head. You were decreasing altitude now, flying over the Alamo Sea again.

"Oh yeah, we had earthquakes sometimes. I remember the drills in school." You nodded your head.

" _That_ sounds exciting." He said.

"Well, maybe, but I don't _miss_ that." You laughed. "Destruction, I mean." You shook your head.

"Suit yourself." He grinned. 

"Hey, is that Mount Chiliad?" You asked, pointing towards the mountain you were facing.

"No, no. That's Mount Josiah. Mount Chiliad is to our right." He laughed. You stared out of the window, the sun hitting the mountains and casting shadows over valleys - wildlife you'd never see in the cities you'd lived in. 

"We gonna go up it?"

"What, fly to the top?" He laughed.

"Yeah. That would be fun, wouldn't it?" You grinned.

"Sure. I mean, there'll be hikers up top - and there's nowhere to park the thing... but we can hover above and scare 'em." He grinned, pulling back on the joystick. You were thrown back as the chopper started climbing rapidly again, and you laughed out loud.

"Scare them? Sure, sure. Fine!" You smiled. You were turning away from Mount Josiah now, heading back over to Mount Chiliad.

"Hey, what's that there?" You asked, reaching over across his body to point something out.

"Hey," He laughed, leaning back, "I'm flying here."

"Sorry," You laughed, moving back. "That place. It's not a town, it's too small." Trevor looked out of the window down towards the ground.

"Ahh. That, (y/n), is Stab City. Trailer park." He grunted.

"Also known as the meth-pit of San Andreas, or the home to The Lost motorcycle club." He said.

"Oh, you're a real tour guide." You smiled. 

"Or should I say, ex-home to The Lost. Yeah, I eradicated them a while back." He smirked.

"Oh god, Trevor. What did they do?" You asked.

"Tried to steal my business and tried to kill me - on multiple occasions!" He added. He stuck a finger up at the place as you flew past it.

"And they're what... all dead now?" You asked.

"No, not all of them. Yeah, a lot of them - but not all. Johnny was the first to go. Before that we had a sort of alliance, ya see." He muttered. You listened, intrigued since you'd never heard the gross details of a meth alliance before.

"They traveled from Liberty City. Ashley told me before - Ashley was Johnny's girl. Me and her had a... had a _thing_." He said.

"Like we have a thing." You muttered, but he stopped you by raising his hand in the air in protest.

"No, no, no. What we had was not a  _real_ thing. She'd fuck me when she was mad with Johnny, or she'd fuck me for meth. It didn't go  _beyond_ that."

"That's really great, Trevor. I didn't need to know that." You laughed emptily. He ignored you.

"Anyway, she said that back in LC she told Johnny that she'd get clean and they'd ride off into the sunset. So they did, but she didn't stay clean. Travelling west just brought more amphetamines into their sad little lives, and the next thing they knew - nearly the whole club were _dependent_ on speed." He said.

"That..." You started, "That sounds really sad." You admitted.

"It was good for me though, since I was supplying them. Until they started cooking themselves. _But_ , we had an alliance." He said.

You watched him as he talked, how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down and how his eye twitched a little. How when he paused for breath he would roll his tongue on the back of his teeth and how he would gnaw at his lip when waiting for response. 

 _"But_ , that's when Michael seeped back into my life like sewage - and I ended the connections quite abruptly." _  
_

"Just like that." You said.

"Just like that. Johnny was annoying me and I was pissed off beyond my control and- what? What? Don't look at me like that!" He spat. "I wasn't thinking straight but I'm glad I wasn't because it's saved me a lot of money and I should'a done it long ago, alright?" He raised his voice, seemingly agitated.

"Don't judge me, you know nothing about the business." He frowned.

"I didn't say anything-"

"Okay. Okay." He interrupted.

Silence.

 

"What are you doing?" You asked, noticing he was lowering the altitude significantly.

"Checkin' if anyone's in." He replied, and you got closer and closer to Stab City.

"Trevor, I don't think you should-" You started, but he was already hovering dangerously closely to the trailers.

"Calm down, nobody's there." He snorted. 

"I don't like this." You said, pulling back and pressing your back against the seat. 

"Jesus - don't worry. Relax." He said, gaining some altitude.

"Can we leave?" You asked. He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, oh. Action. There it is." His eyes widened and he peered down below. You followed his eyes and saw a man wearing black leather leaving one of the trailers. 

"What? What's going on?" You asked.

"I think... no that doesn't make sense." He frowned. "No... no." He muttered, trying to get a better view. The man got onto his bike. 

"How could..." He squinted his eyes.

"What? I don't understand?" You asked, trying to get a better view.

"Jack-fucking-pot." He gasped.

That's when you saw it. The biker pulled out something - something you couldn't make out - and pulled it out of a bag. He then pulled out a dagger from his jacket and held it out in front of him.

"What's he doing?" You gasped.

He fumbled with the bag on the dash of the bike, then he brought the dagger up to his face. A few seconds later he shook his head around and put the dagger and bag away.

"Drugs. Biker style." Trevor laughed manically. You looked between Trevor and the figure below, confused and worried. Suddenly Trevor was dropping altitude and you were breathing heavily. You wanted out of this situation - immediately.

The biker looked up suddenly, clocking the chopper. The noise must have been too loud, and now you were beginning to panic.

"Trevor, what's going on. Tell me - tell me now!" You shouted. 

 

Trevor suddenly opened the door on his side and boomed below, "Hey! You! Lard ass!"

The biker grabbed his back pocket, obviously searching for a gun.

"You gotta hit for me?" Trevor shouted, laughing. He turned to you.

"There's a SMG in the back. Get it." He said. You stared at him. "Go!" He shouted.

You reached for the SMG as you heard the biker shout up, "Trevor Philips! Who knew you were still in county!"

You handed the massive gun to Trevor as he called back down, "I could say the same about yourself!" 

 

The next few seconds went by in a blur. You were screaming, sure. The biker took a shot, and Trevor aimed at the biker and shot - multiple times. His body hit the ground and you were still hovering dangerously low.

But that's not where it ended. Suddenly members of The Lost were pouring out of all the trailers.

"I thought you  _eradicated_ them, Trevor!" You shouted. Trevor looked up at you, with a look in his eye that conveyed utter panic and arousal. He laughed so loudly it was deafening, and you winced as the windscreen shattered from the bullets speeding towards you like a swarm of locusts. 

Trevor pulled back on the joystick, and you were flung back into the side. You heard the pangs of bullets hitting the underside of the helicopter, as the whole thing turned around. The helicopter started making beeping noises and you could smell smoke, but Trevor was still laughing.

He threw the SMG towards you and most presumably ordered you to shoot - but you couldn't hear for the hail of bullets crashing against metal. You tried facing backwards and aiming behind, but what you saw frightened you. There were at least fifteen, twenty men - shooting at the chopper - an easy target that was spinning out of control.

Your eyes widened and you smashed the butt of the gun into the window, not feeling the glass cut your skin as your arm grazed against it. You were then shooting relentlessly at the crowd of people. 

Trevor's incessant laughter didn't stop, and you were terrified but captivated. You took out a few people, but the bullets were still coming. The helicopter was spinning now, and smoke was choking you. Your arm was bleeding. 

The blades started whirring slower, and there was a loud crunch of metal. 

"We're going to die!" You screamed, turning back around and throwing the gun at Trevor.

He was desperately trying to keep the helicopter under control, but it a power uncontrollable force - too powerful for either of you as you grabbed Trevor's arm.

"We need to fucking jump, Trevor!" You screamed, before laughing at the reality - or lack of reality - of the situation.

"Arrrrgh!" Trevor shouted, smacking the controls - and you were flung back again against the door as it spun again. You were over the Alamo sea now, and you were far away enough from Stab City for the bullets to sound distant.

"Come on. We need to jump, or we'll go down with it! Take my fucking hand!" You shouted, kicking open the door at your side. Your hair whipped around your face from the sudden gust of wind. Trevor looked up at you with a look of pure rage and adrenaline - and you looked back at him. But you looked pissed off. So the anger faded from his eyes, and he listened.

"Get closer to the fucking water, Trevor. We are  _not_ dying today!" You screamed. He did exactly what you said, and pushed down on the cyclic - sending you careening towards the water. You looked up at him in panic. You extended your hand.

"Take my hand!" You shouted, then started laughing as the world spun by. If he didn't take your hand, you would surely die. He frowned at it, hitting the controls one last time for good measure.

"My fucking chopper!" He shouted.

"Baby, take my fucking hand!" You screamed. You were less than ten feet from the water.

He suddenly gripped you, and you welcomed the familiar rough hand in yours.

 

You laughed as you jumped, pulling Trevor down with you, just as the helicopter crashed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unrealistic? never in grand theft auto land. 
> 
> stay tuned to find out what happens next!!!!
> 
> love ya all, thank you for kudos/commenting it means so much really!!
> 
> (oh, if anyone gets the title reference??? kudos to you?? hint: it's the line 'baby take my hand' in the song don't fear the reaper ;3 )


	12. Perfect Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance if there are any spelling/grammatical errors, I've only skimmed and not actually proof-read.

 

XII

 

You couldn't feel anything but numb, you couldn't hear anything but silence, you couldn't see anything but darkness. Seconds, minutes, hours, passed - in your head - as you stared out into what appeared to be nothing. Then you surfaced, and the light poured into your eyes, blinding you with... vision.

The strong salty smell of the green water you floated in filled your nose - along with the distinct smell of black smoke - and you retched. Your lungs burned as though they had been drowned in gasoline and set alight. You submerged again, against your own will, your eyes stinging as the salt water flushed them. 

You finally got a hold of your senses and flailed your weak arms around, gasping for air. You coughed and spluttered and oh, it hurt. Why didn't you breathe? Your trachea felt collapsed. Your windpipe wasn't working. To breathe, was to puncture your lungs with daggers. 

Then your body ached too, the hard slap of it against the water as you fell was reminiscent. You had been slapped, you had no air, and you were sinking again.

Your head was pounding. It was dark again. It was cold. It tasted funny. Your mind was becoming detached from your body, as you took notice of what was going on but you didn't act. Your eyes closed, desperate for a deep sleep.

Then strong arms melted around your waist as you sensed the distant and fuzzy feeling. Your insides went weak as though you had butterflies in your tummy, which made you feel even more ill. Then the strong arms were yanking and pulling you. It hurt - stop - you didn't want this. No, you wanted to sleep. Everything was burning. You were moving up, kick by kick from his legs pushing against the water. It was too much. You flopped like a ragdoll.

You opened your eyes but didn't see much, it was too dark. His arms were pressed around you, under your breastbone, he was behind you. It reminded you of someone trying to stop someone from choking, with each harsh movement as he heaved you upright. You were useless, and he was trying so hard.

 

Then you were on his back, arms around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist. You didn't know how that happened. You were above the surface again, but you were still unaware of breathing.

He was swimming to shore. You were riding on his back. You couldn't move anything, you were completely paralysed. You just watched.

This didn't feel real, you were in some sort of dream.

And you shut your eyes again. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"No, no, no, (y/n), wake up! Fucking wake up!" Trevor shouted, shaking your shoulders. Your eyes shot open and you found him pressing down on your chest repeatedly.

You lifted your hands up and touched his arm, shaking your head. He then noticed your eyes were open, and slowly came to a halt.

"I - I didn't drown." You choked out. "Don't do that."

"I'm- I'm fine. In shock." You said. He pulled back from you, he was kneeling above you. You were lying on your back, and you saw a bird fly in the sky above Trevor's head. Trevor stared at you, his eyes full of worry and guilt and something deeper and richer and a lot harder to place.

"Can you move?" He asked, frowning at your stationary body.

"Yes." You replied weakly. You were still staring up at him, not having moved. He continued staring expectantly, then he turned his head away and grimaced.

"Is this my fault?" he asked rhetorically, "It's all my fault, isn't it?" 

"No, of course not." You assured him, but he didn't take notice.

" _Fuck!_ This isn't what I wanted!" He grabbed the sides of his head. 

"No," You said, rising up and trying to push yourself up onto your elbows. "No. It's fine. I'm fine. I am fine, Trevor."

You reached an arm over to touch his face, but you winced and pulled your arm back,

"Fuck," You hissed. 

 

You rolled up your shirt sleeve to find a large cut, around 4 inches long, which could have passed for just a scratch - but the glass had cut too deep, leaving a smear of scarlet as you wiped it with your hand."

"That stings." You muttered. He cursed under his breath as he watched you wipe up the wound.  
  
"Michael was right, wasn't he? I'm a fucking danger to you. I just- I just didn't think you were going to get fucking  _hurt_.  _Shit!_ "

"Trevor, stop it," You said. "I chose to spend my time with you, whether you're a danger or not, alright? I don't  _care_. You hear? I don't mind." You said reassuringly.

He sat still for a moment, his frown deepening as he looked down in consideration.

"But you're hurt." He gestured to your arm. 

"It's not that bad." You replied while brushing it again, however your claims  _might_ have been lies - as the 'scratch' was still bleeding incessantly. 

"I'm taking you home. You- you can wash it or something. I'll get you patched up." He said.

"Wash it? No, it's alright. I'll just go to the medical center, they'll have bandages."

"Uh, medical center?" He asked. "Nah, nah. Ron'll have a bandage. C'mon." He said, leaning over and scooping one arm under your upper back and one under your legs.

"Woah, there. Why not the medical center?" You asked, squirming. He lifted you up almost effortlessly, and you were surprised at how he didn't seem to even strain with your weight. 

"It's right next to the fucking cop house." He replied, now standing upright and beginning to walk away.

"So?" You frowned.

"And don't you think it's a little suspicious that a helicopter was shot down into the sea and we're both fucking soaking wet?" He asked loudly.

"Argh," You groaned in defeat, both because your arm was causing you pain and also due to sheer exasperation.

 

He hoisted you up and you grabbed onto his shoulders for support. 

"That was some adventure though, huh?" You commented lightheartedly, to which you earned a small grunt from T.

 

* * *

 

 

You were lying on Trevor's bed, observing the relationship that existed between Trevor and his friend Ron.

"You brought her back here, T?!" Ron exclaimed, watching with wide eyes as Trevor sat you down on the bed.

"Yeah, I did,  _Ron_." Trevor replied, not even bothering to give him a glance.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Great choice, boss. Here is really the best place, what with the-"

"Go get a fucking bandage, Ron." Trevor growled, looking over his shoulder slightly.

"A bandage? I don't know if I have any bandages..."

"Fucking go!" Trevor shouted.

"Yeah, boss," Ron scurried away, and you couldn't help but feel immense pity for the man.

 

"You maybe oughta be nicer to him." You whispered after Ron had quickly departed the trailer.

"Listen (y/n), he's a  _fine_ business associate. If I cut him any slack, how do I know he'll work as hard?" Trevor replied with a laugh. You narrowed your eyes at him.[  
](http://louwhis.tumblr.com/post/46303419918/what-you-say-bout-me)

"God, I don't know. Usually some general  _praise_ would do the trick?" You laughed emptily. 

"I'm not into that weak motivation." Trevor dismissed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and you shook your head at him. 

"How's your arm?" He asked. 

"It's not fallen off yet." You replied. "Might need to dispose of your shirt, man." You chuckled.

"Ah don't worry, I'll add it to my collection of blood-stained shirts." He waved his hand in dismissal and you laughed. 

"God." You mumbled, surprised at the casual conversation that hinted at things so much darker. It really did confuse you, the way that you dissociated the darkness going on from yourself. You may have liked to pretend, but the harsh reality was hard to ignore. The gore and blood and danger, wasn't something you could shove away and hide under the rug.

"Speaking of clothes, I really need to get home soon Trevor. Get into my _own_ clothes." You said. You looked up into his eyes waiting for a reaction, but he just stared forward and pressed his lips together.

"The Madrazo shit is settled now, I'm guessing." You nodded your head. "I really can't wait to get home."

"Of course." Trevor said finally.

"And I have so many things I need to do." You gasped in realisation. Trevor continued watching you in silence.

"I gotta phone my mom. And my _work._ If they haven't fired me, I'd be surprised. I can't _wait_ for all those angry voicemails." You chuckled sarcastically.

"You know, if it's that bad, you could always stay here." He said nonchalantly, scratching the back of his neck. You looked down at your hands, then back into his eyes sadly.

"Sorry, Trev." You said. 

"No, no. Sure. Fine, whatever." He shrugged.

"I want a  _shower_ , god." You smiled weakly. "And air conditioning."

"Yeah, great. That's great." He replied. 

"So, uh, can you? Can you take me home, today maybe?" You asked hopefully.

"Today? Are you, uh," He laughed slightly, "sure about today?"

"Well yeah, sure. I don't see why not. The sooner the better." You bit your lip. 

At that moment, Ron barged through the front door. You tried to give him a smile, even though Trevor glared at him significantly.

"What took you so long?" Trevor asked, rising to his feet.

"I couldn't find any sorta- but I... I got this. I found it in the closet and-"

"Bah, bah, bah." Trevor mocked him, taking the things out of his hands.

"Thank you, Ron." You said, moving your head to smile at him.

He peered back at you nervously and then backed away, scuttling out of the door.

"What's he got?" You asked.

"This shit'll do." He said. 

 

He tried cleaning the wound with some sort of rag, and admittedly, it was the gentlest you had ever seen him be. You told him to go wet it because it would be pointless to just keep wiping it, so he did. The bleeding had subsided and your arm was clean, so you were to just let it heal. Trevor checked for any glass left, but it was all clear. He then wrapped the white cloth around your arm a few times, before tying it in a knot. 

"Not the most professional, but hey. Call me a doctor." Trevor chuckled afterwards.

"Thanks doc." You replied. He smiled back, but you could see the guilt hiding behind his eyes.

"Sorry, again." He said sheepishly, before straightening up and sitting upright. 

"Sorry about your... helicopter." You added, in the same shy voice. 

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'll  _source_ another." He said, and you laughed in disbelief.

"I'm glad I don't have to _source_ another arm. Thanks to you, doctor." You grinned.

"Yeah, yeah." 

 

You tucked a strand of damp hair behind your ear and sighed. 

"I liked staying out here, T. Surprisingly." You confessed. He turned to give you a glance, still perching on the edge of the bed. His hands were in his lap and he twiddled his thumbs.

"Well, obviously. I'm a tremendous caterer." He said. You rolled your eyes.

"I mean it. I didn't think I'd like the desert. But I was wrong. I thought I was coming here solely for work..."

"But you were wrong." Trevor nodded.

"So I guess I'm saying thanks." You stated.

"Thanks for what?" He snorted. "The desert was always here. Don't thank me just because you discovered that there was in fact more to the world than Los Santos."

"Hey, that's low." You frowned. "I mean thanks for this  _opportunity_." 

"Oh, the  _opportunity_. I see. What would that be, then? What have you gained from this wondrous experience?" He asked animatedly. 

"Well, lots of things. A sense of freedom." You began.

"Which you will realise is just a façade when you return t-"

"Happiness,"

"Which is only temporary-"

"Don't! I'm serious, Trevor." You said.

"I'm leaving here with more than just a pocketful of cash, I swear." You said.

"Whatever." He exhaled, smiling - yet still seeming melancholic.

"Why are you so reluctant to believe that I've enjoyed it here, T?" You asked incredulously.

"'Cause if you liked it so much, then why would you leave? You _know_ you can stay." He spat.

You bit your lip. 

"I told you why I want- need to go home. I don't know if you can tell but this-" you gestured between the both of you, "isn't normal already. Deciding to live the rest of my life in the desert is just gonna contribute to that crazy." 

Up until that point he was playing with his hands and shaking his knee, but then he froze.

"I'm sorry, Trevor. I love spending time with you, it's just my _mom_ and..."

"Yeah well you'd think if you loved spending time with me you wouldn't stop." He muttered under his breath.

"Don't." You whispered. "Don't do this to me. That is manipulative."

"Oh so you can do this to me? Do you know how many people have _left_  me in my life? People who've not wanted to and people who have? I'm fucking sick of it! People can't just enter your life and screw it around and leave-" He was standing at this point.

"Trevor! I'm not leaving you. I'm not leaving you. You have... you make me think, you know that? You make me wonder. I'm not letting you go." You raised your voice. 

This was becoming irrational and you needed a rest.

Trevor paced around the room, frowning, scowling. You wondered if he believed he was being reasonable or if he was going against himself. Then you realised it didn't matter and you didn't care.

 "Can you move?" He asked, reminding you of when he was staring down at you earlier, worried, just hours previously. You were injured then, but this time, _he_ looked more injured, an expression of pain plastered across his face - and you looked up at him worriedly. You stared back at him, your mouth open slightly, before quickly and sharply nodding your head.

"Yes." 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Driving along the Senora Freeway this time wasn't as pleasing. There was an uncomfortable tension in the air, and Trevor hadn't turned on the noisy music he usually listened to - and you didn't dare reach for the dial. He wasn't driving as recklessly as he usually did, and in fact, if you closed your eyes you may have believed you were just on a leisurely drive. It was irregular and therefore unsettling.

Saying goodbye to Sandy Shores was brief and disappointing. You didn't have a lot of time when you gathered your belongings and grab your backpack, and you took note of the fact that you left your old clothes somewhere in Trevor's room. You didn't say goodbye to Ron, or Janet - not that you really expected to - and you didn't get to see the marina one last time. 

Not a word was uttered, and you tried many times to think of something to say - but silence seemed preferable over nonsensical ramblings.

You laid your head back and stared at the sky instead. Pink and purple hues, as the sun set, wispy lilac clouds floating a lot higher than you were flying earlier that day. Everything was so surreal. All you could hear was a low pitch humming in your ears, and you finally shut your eyes. 

You didn't think you were sleeping, but you were definitely dreaming. Of him. Trevor, the abnormality that was so addicting for some odd reason. You were glad you'd walked into the web that was his life - but it was so complicated. You would say intricate, but it seemed confused.

You didn't know if you would even bother trying to disentangle yourself from what was becoming a perfect mess.

Eyes fluttered open. Trevor was still not speaking, which was becoming increasingly worrying, but you had a feeling he'd seen you with your eyes closed. After skyscrapers became visible, the muscles in your throat tightened.

You cleared your throat and uttered the address of your apartment.

"I'm sorry?" Trevor responded. He speaks.

You repeated the destination.

"No, I'm  _sorry._ South Los Santos.  _Terrible_ place." 

"Oh," You replied quietly. You knew that already. You decided not to point out that it wasn't any worse than Trevor's trailer. This place may be terrible, but it was a home. 

 

You didn't notice the truck roll to a stop. You peered up at the building, looking at your apartment. The curtains were open, the lights were off. Truth be told, you were nervous to enter it again.

You tore your eyes away from the building and found Trevor looking at you. His expression was unreadable. He just looked... open and blank. 

"Come in." You whispered.

He frowned at you as though you were speaking a different language.

"It's been a long journey. There's no point in going home again. Stay the night." You said, unsure, testing your own voice out. "Please." 

You saw him roll his tongue over his teeth in his mouth. He glanced up at your apartment and back down at you again.

"I should." He said, but it sounded more like a question.

"You should." You nodded. 

He pressed his lips together. "Am I going to get hurt?" He asked, sounding less nervous and more demanding.

"I don't know..." You trailed off, not exactly sure what he meant.

"When did you care about getting hurt?" You countered.

"I don't know what you want, (y/n). Am I in your life now, or not?" He asked.

Pause.

"You are." You said slowly.

"What do you want?" He repeated, his voice husky. 

"I... don't know... what you mean." You said. He sighed.

"Do you want me or not?" He asked. A slash of his face was illuminated by orange streetlight. His hair was slightly disheveled from the wind, and his tongue rested on his lower lip.

One answer was crazily reasonable. One was perfectly insane.

"I want you." 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading ily all
> 
> \+ happy holidays to everyone!!!!! :-)


	13. Cool Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long there's been some personal stuff occurring. <3 formatting may be a little squiffy due to mobile uploading blah blah.
> 
> reader tries to readjust from the aftermath of the sandy shores excursion

 

XIII

 

You squinted as the sunlight, streaming through the half-closed shutters, hit your eyes. Your chin was resting in one of your hands, the other holding flat and slightly warm lemonade in a wine-glass, as you sat on the end of the sofa.You swirled the lemonade around in the glass, exhaling heavily through your nose. Finally you pushed the glass away, resting it on the coffee table, and returned to perching on the sofa with your head in your hands – this time your face wasn’t directly in the sunlight. You felt too old, a tired old housewife who lazed around drinking away her problems, staring out of a window in futile search of an estranged husband. But you were not married, and you were not drinking. It was just after noon, but you were completely exhausted.

It had been four days since you last seen Trevor. Four agonisingly long days. Well, it had really been three days and twelve hours, not that you were counting or anything. You still felt sour over the fact that you woke up on Tuesday morning to the most unbelievable thing that you could have conjured up.

  ** _[SMS]: Got buisness 2 do sweetheart. Will c u soon promise. T_**

“You hypocrite.” You muttered, as you scrubbed the dishes which had been left for days on end without being cleaned.

“You said you didn’t want _me_ to leave!” You hissed, as you cleared all the crap which was cluttered on the worktops.

“I can’t _believe_ you.” You mumbled as you brushed away the dust which had gathered during your little vacation.

 

When the place was tidy, you sat down on the sofa, wiping away non-existent sweat from your brow. Then the red light caught your eye, and you stared at it. Red flashing on and off and on and off. Like a bomb. Only you were in control, and you felt the longer you left it the greater the chance of it exploding. So finally you pulled yourself off of the sofa, dragging your legs over to the machine. The red light flashed directly in your face and you stared and stared. Then you slapped the button, immediately bringing your hand away as though it burned – and then biting the ends of your fingertips – you listened.

 

 **“Friday** : _Hello, it’s Sean Whitefield from LifeInvader offices, Im calling for (y/n) who hasn’t shown up for work today. Please call back and explain your absence._

**Friday** : _Hey hon’, it’s Mom. I see that you’re out, which is great! I hope you’re making friends. I’ll talk to you tomorrow instead. Love ya!_

**Saturday** : _Hi sweet, you’re still not around and you haven’t answered my texts. I hope you’re safe, please call me back._

**Saturday:** _Hey (y/n), it’s Kat! Just phoning to say I’m in LS, so we should totally hook up! Call me!_

**Sunday** : _(y/n), it’s Mom. You’re worrying me sick. Phone me. If you don’t want to talk to me, just at least tell me. I love you.”_

You were sitting down again at this point, still gnawing on your fingers.

 

 **“Monday** : _Hello, this is Sean Whitefield from LifeInvader. I’m calling for (y/n). I would like to give a reminder that LifeInvader has a strict policy with absences. Please phone in and explain. Consequences can be severe. Thanks._

 

 **Monday:** _Now your cellphone is turned off sweetie. I swear, I’d string you up by the neck if you were by my side. You said you’d call me, hon’. I’m just worried, that’s all. I hope you’re okay. If you don’t respond, I’m calling your work._

_End of messages.”_

You exhaled, feeling like a deflated balloon. You weren’t sure if you were breathing that whole time. And then the impending dread of having to make a decision began.

At first you didn’t know who to phone back first, but eventually you decided on your mother.

Her voice was warm and concerning on the phone when you initially said hi, but then her tone sounded bitter as you skirted around where you’d been and what you were doing. You could tell that she was biting her tongue the whole time, and you were grateful for the fact that she didn’t bite your head off, seeing as you already had a headache beginning. You told her almost the same story as you’d told Kat, explaining that your friends were showing you around the rest of the state. She did ask about work, and you closed your eyes as you told her that you had some days off.

A few more lies and empty laughs later and the phone was back on the wall.

 

Next up was work, and it was ten times more terrible - or possibly terribly brilliant. You explained that you did not have the number for work seeing as your purse was stolen, and therefore you could not phone in to explain that your absence was in fact due to an injury. What injury, they asked, and you responded with an injury to the arm. Glass, cut it open, it was very deep and you had to go to a doctor to get the glass removed. They soaked it all up, probably due to the fact that they were finding it extremely difficult to get work after Jay Norris’ assassination, and asked that you returned that week with a medical note. This time as you hung the phone back up on the wall, you whispered ‘score’ in relief.

 

So work was what kept you occupied as you thought of Trevor. You were back to typing away endlessly on keyboards, chatting with colleagues over coffee, and getting a pay check that was legal. You were fitting in quite well again, which was a pleasant surprise. People were very welcoming, asking about your arm which you still kept a bandage around despite the fact that it was healing pretty well, and you smiled back and ignored the fact that they might have been talking about you behind your back minutes previously. The director of the department even asked that you work a few extra hours, and you happily obliged. Things were looking good, and you thought of Trevor sometimes - like when you looked out of the window, through the skyline of Vinewood Hills, and imagined the desert that was hiding away behind it.

 

Something that you noticed was that coffee seemed to be all that those people drank. You thought that if it were back in Trevor Philips Country, people would be inviting people out for a _drink_ – not for a coffee. Back in Trevor Philips Country, it would actually be more suited if people were to drink coffee instead of alcohol. Hopefully they’d be awakened somehow, more aware of their surroundings and the speciality of the heart of San Andreas, instead of loitering around in a drunken stupor, solidifying Sandy Shores’ bad reputation. In Los Santos, young people were constantly buzzed with caffeine, jittering and socialising for all the wrong reasons. Uptight and worried, the younger generation were slowly fracturing and becoming crazed, while the older and not-so-wiser lay low and made political decisions the young were too hyped up to take notice of. So when somebody inevitably asked you if wanted to go out for a coffee, you politely declined – for reasons which you weren’t extremely sure of, but it had _something_ to do with Trevor. Something to do with the fact that you were thinking of him, and the land you found him in, often; despite the fact that he’d left and hadn’t spoken to you since. And that was what made your face screw up, and deterred people from asking you if you wanted coffee again.

 

On the Thursday, you bought a new necklace. It had a sterling silver chain, a large pendant with a diamond in a chrome shell. It was not cheap, in fact quite the opposite of cheap, but you could afford it now. That night you were home, alone again. You could stand the daytime, it was bearable and normal and routine - but nighttime you just had the company of yourself. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, stared at yourself, with the pendant around your neck.

Eventually you could not bear it and you hastily took off the necklace. You held the necklace in your hand, asking yourself 'Why?' more than a few times. You didn't deserve it. You'd stolen the money. Your mother wouldn't be proud. You slowly rose to your feet again and stared back into your reflection, scowling. Fuck your mother. You loved her but God, you were feeling conflicted. You composed yourself again and left the bathroom, picking up your cellphone on the way. You wrote a text to Trevor.

**_[SMS]: you better still be alive?x_ **

You'd set up some sort of idea that you were going to let him contact you first, so you felt a bit like you were giving in to something, but you quickly shook off the thought and sent the message. You decided there and then you were going to send the pendant to your mother as a gift. You delivered it to the post office on the Friday morning, after you'd received a email from work telling you that you could have the day off since you'd worked extra hours. Perks.

 

And that was where it left you afterwards; lounging around on your sofa, inside even though it was a perfectly nice day outside. Trevor hadn't answered your text, and his phone was turned off when you tried to call him. You had the smallest, irrational, little fear that he was never going to come back.

It wasn't that you were a person who got worried about abandonment and/or separation, it was just that Trevor was something different. You knew that though, he was interesting, he'd shown you a way of living you never thought you'd ever be able to live. So naturally you didn't want to have him gone.

And naturally, you decided to do something verging on irrational.

You pulled out your cellphone and looked in your call history from last week, till you found the call conference. Trevor's number, what you recognised as Michael's number from when you'd spoken to Ricki, and an unrecognised number. Tap, dial, ring ring ring.

"Fuck." You whispered. Suddenly the ringing stopped and you heard a click.

"Hello?" Came a familiar voice.

"Franklin?" You asked. There was a pause.

"Yeah, speaking. Who's this?" He replied. You breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's (y/n), from the Paleto job, I don't know if you remember me..."

"Shit, no, yeah. I do. Shit, how you been doing?" He asked, sounding more than a little surprised to hear from you.

"Im fine thanks, yourself?" You sat on the edge of your seat.

"Yeah, good. Sorta." His voice wavered as he added the last comment.

"Sorta. You're sorta good." You replied quietly.

"Yeah, sorta. Man, I'm constantly hidin' out - and I have fools up my ass all day makin' me run them errands and shit. And that's not even including Michael and Trevor. So yeah, _sorta_."

"Shit, I'm sorry." You replied, scratching your head. Way to make your problems seem trivial. You considered hanging up just there.

"Nah, I shouldn't have told you that. So uh, what are you wanting anyways?" He asked.

"I uh... I was just wondering if you knew where Trevor was."

"Trevor?"

"Yeah." You said.

"You tried calling him?" He asked.

"Yeah, his phone's off."

"That's weird. Why you needin' him? Can I help?" He asked.

"No thanks, I just, I need to speak to him." You said then pressed your lips together.

"Right, I see." He said. You were particularly grateful that he didn't comment further, because you kinda wished he wouldn't ask any questions about your relationship with Trevor. Michael, well he wouldn't grant those wishes.

"Well shit, I don't know dog. Last time I seen him was when we was setting up a score." He replied, sounding confused.

"Score?" You asked slowly.

"Uh, yeah, we're hitting... a place. I thought you'd know cause of the mutual connections."

"No, I've not spoken to Trevor. Or Michael." You sucked on your lip and frowned.

"The union...?" You whispered.

"Yeah dog." He replied after a pause.

"I didn't know that was for real, I guess. I don't know, fuck, it's a little ambitious." You exclaimed.

"Yeah, I know man. I know." He added, sounding as though he were sighing.

"Hey, I don't mean to get you killed or nothin', but if you needing the money I can mention you, dog. They might choose you for something. Hackin' or something you do. Depends which angle we take." He said in a more upbeat and less monotonous voice.

"Thanks, Franklin. I'll think about it. So you're sure you don't know where T is?" You repeated.

"Nah man, but he did say he finna help me out with some vehicle transport pretty soon. If he shows I'll tell him you're askin'." He said, and you exhaled slowly.

"Thank you, that means a lot. I'll cya."

 

* * *

 

 

"Hey, sweetheart!"

No, no. This wasn't happening. You tried to close the door.

"Hey, what're you doing? Hey. You gonna invite me in for a coffee or something?" He said, interjecting the path of the closing door using his hand.

"Trevor, what are you doing here?" You asked. He was wearing a tan leather jacket and jeans, with sunglasses even though it was nighttime. He grinned at your surprised expression.

"I thought you wanted to see me!" He exclaimed.

"You've not spoken to me in a week." You shot back, trying to resist his infectious smile from distracting you.

"Yeah well I had business to do, alright? People to see, places to be."

"And I'm not one of those people." You muttered offhandedly, rolling your eyes.

"That's why I'm here! You're a person to see! Now gimme me a kiss, sugar." Trevor tried to force open the door.

"Trevor, no." You pulled back from him, but still let the door give way so he could enter.

"Are you drunk?" You narrowed your eyes, noticing the distinct smell of whisky.

"I may have had a drink or two, now that you're asking, yeah. You have a problem with me drinking my feelings, huh?"

"Yeah, no... get in here." You sighed, gesturing inside.

"And take off those glasses, you look stupid." You laughed.

"Mmm," He grunted, pulling the glasses off of his face and stepping inside, "whatever.". He flung the glasses somewhere in your apartment and you glanced around to find them, but they were lost.

He took a seat on your sofa, making himself at home immediately.

"Did'ya miss me?" He asked.

"Whatever." You scoffed, closing the door behind you.

"Do you really want coffee?" You asked him, wandering to the kitchen.

"Yeah, why not?" He called. You started pouring the coffee in the machine and flicked a few switches. After pouring in water, you walked back through into the room.

"A little birdy told me you're trying to pull the Union Depository heist." You smirked, walking over to the sofa.

"Who the... who the fuck told you that?" Trevor asked angrily, furrowing his brow and staring at you.

"Franklin." You replied, sitting down across from him.

"Ah, ah... Frank. Good kid." He nodded his head, relaxing significantly.

"But, uh-" He laughed, "I'm not sure that's gonna happen anymore."

"What's not gonna happen?" You asked.

"The heist." He said shortly.

"What?" You frowned.

"There's been a slight change of _circumstances_. Got rid of some _assholes_ in my life. I'm not sure if I can do the job without 'em." He shifted in his seat, lying back with his arms wide. You observed him and lay back.

"Well at least you won't be killed." You reasoned. He shrugged and diverted his gaze, staring off into the room.

"What business did you have to do?" You asked nonchalantly, following his gaze and joining him in staring into nothing.

"Some people had to be dealt with." He replied.

"Maybe I don't want to know." You added.

"I... I maybe made..." He slurred his words slightly.

"What?" You asked, turning to face him.

"Maybe. Bad decisions. Maybe made some bad decisions. But I thought they were right, and I don't know. I don't know." He said, mumbled, his words were becoming as confused as you were.

"What do you mean, Trevor?"

"I fucked up." He whispered.

"What did you do?" Your voice was rising now.

He quickly stood up and wobbled on his feet slightly. "Forgive me." He said.

"For what?" You stood up also.

"No, not you," he shook you away with his hand. He walked over to the kitchen and opened your refrigerator. You watched him as he searched around inside, eyes wide.

"I'm confused." You told him, stating the obvious. He paused, then shut the fridge.

"Me too." He said. Then he walked towards you. Then he was right in front of you.

"What are you wearing?" He asked quietly. You looked down at yourself then back into his eyes again.

"Pyjamas. I wasn't expecting anyone." You replied, narrowing your eyes.

He looked you up and down and nodded his head slowly.

"I see." He responded, his voice a low growl compared to yours.

"What is up with you? Why are you acting this way? Don't blame this on being drunk." You said.

He looked down at your body again, and mumbled "It was only a few drinks."

"Stop it Trevor. What is wrong with you?" You hissed.

"Shut up!" He shouted, and you jumped back, startled.

You heard the hiss of the coffee machine in the background, as it must've been nearly ready.

"I am fine!" He snarled, moving closer to you. When he noticed you backing up slightly he stopped. Then he stepped back.

"I'm sorry." He muttered. "I- I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay." You said while raising a brow.

He was looking around the room desperately and you didn't know what to say to console him, if he wasn't going to tell you what was wrong.

"Trevor, it's okay." You repeated, catching his attention. He looked back up at you.

 

Nothing could prepare you for what happened next, as he bounded forward and grabbed onto your sides. He pressed his lips to yours and pushed you backwards. You were stumbling, in shock, and you felt your back hit the wall with a soft thud.

Then his tongue was in your mouth and you tasted whisky and... smoke. His hands slid around your waist and you raised your hands to press against his chest.

You wanted to stop him, to ask him what he was talking about previously but his head was in your shoulder now, and you could feel the hot breath against your neck. His hands were climbing up your torso now, underneath your shirt, he groped your chest.

"Trevor," you whispered. He didn't respond.

He was back to kissing you again and you didn't understand. You wondered what it would be like, to have that power over someone, to make them change their mind instantly. Having so much power over someone that they would let you do whatever you wanted to them, without a word being uttered.

But you kissed him back. And he made a small noise, then started tugging down your pyjama pants. And you let him. And then his hand was down your underwear, and you let him.

"Oh, God." You muttered as you pulled back for breath.

Your knees were becoming weak and you couldn't hold up your own weight as he touched you. As though he read your mind, he lifted you up and held you against the wall.

What happened next was in a blur,  Trevor's jeans were down and off and he was pulling down your underwear. He pushed inside of you, eliciting a short gasp from you. 

"Uh, God, you..." Trevor groaned as he moved in slowly.

You exhaled, breathing into Trevor's neck, "Trevor."

"Mm," He moaned in reply as he pulled back ever-so-slightly.

He then slammed into you, more powerfully this time, and your back hit the wall once more. 

"Trevor, Trevor," You gasped.

 

His eyes met with yours briefly, clouded over in a haze of lust, and his thrusts faltered.

"Don't stop." You finished, breathlessly; to which he didn't.

Well he didn't stop until the neighbour knocked on those thin walls, which could easily be on breaking point,  _loudly_ and started spewing profanity at you both.

So he lifted you and wrapped your legs around his waist, before carrying you to the sofa instead, and oh as you both fell downwards you couldn't help but think - the coffee was getting cool.

 

Later, the coffee was so, definitely, cool.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Trevor is a little unsettled for reasons you might suspect... :} If not, don't worry; next chapter reveals all. Also: seriously can't believe this has over 1,500 hits... thank you so much guys.
> 
> {still can't do smut lol}


	14. Time and Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aHHHHHHH REGRET REGRET REGRET LET ME HIDE IN A DARK CORNER
> 
> there are ableist slurs in this, and alcohol usage
> 
> there's been a little tag in this story that hasn't been touched on. see if you can guess which one. i'm sure readers aren't really bad enough to do such a thing but - the shit's been stirred now. and it's terrible D: i'm sorry likr FGUVK

XIV

 

"No, that can't be done." 

"No."

"No, that's not how it works, Ma'am."

"Yes, yeah, okay."

"My manager? What for? I'm perfectly able to help you." Teeth gritted.

"You need to tell me what it's saying, because I can  _assure_ you that the information isn't being leaked."

"Leaked, as in- no! Like, nobody can find it. Ma'am, yes, I know - the cloud, I..."

"Ma'am? Hello?"

"God fucking damn!" The plastic phone hit the handset with a crack.

 

"Hey? What was that?" Someone called. You turned around in your chair to find crossed arms in front of you.

"Nothing, someone getting angry, that's all." You looked up at your team manager.

"We don't make users and customers angry." He responded. You tried not to roll your eyes, or bite your tongue, or fully _lash out_ , the guy was already on your nerves.

"They weren't buying anything. Just inquiring about the site." You replied in a clipped voice, peering upwards into stern blue eyes. "It's fine, don't worry. Won't happen again." You added, staring at the crease in his frown.

"You're on thin ice." The man said finally, turning on his heel and walking off.

"Yeah." You whispered, narrowing your eyes. You swiveled back around on your chair to face the screen as you heard giggles from colleagues. You looked over your shoulder at them, as they all suddenly tore their eyes away and went back to working.

There were a few more snickers before you commented calmly, "Immature, shitheads." 

They didn't say anything back.

 

* * *

 

 

Grumbling would have been the only word to describe you at that point in time. Walking home from work late at night, briskly, holding your jacket tighter against your chest. Your boss was pissed at you for God knows what, your colleagues were acting strangely passive-aggressive towards you and the interns talked about you behind your back.

Not to mention that Trevor had used his powers of persuasion over you the night before and you never got to speak to him properly afterwards. You were left in the dark, so to say, as to what brought on last night.

You were nearly home.

The utter cacophony of household items and kitchenware alerted you that somebody was home, long before you had the chance to open the door. Each step you took closer to the apartment, the louder the noise got, and you didn't know what to say or do.

Your house was obviously being robbed. Ransacked. Something, something was happening. 

You pushed down the handle and tried to nudge the door open but it wouldn't move. A shove or two saw whatever was blocking the way, a wooden chair, toppling over.

 

Smash. A china plate. It hit the top of the doorframe, just missing your head. You were startled to say the least. 

In the centre of room was Trevor, a frowning eye in the whirlwind that was your living room. He was throwing things around, knocking over chairs, swiping away magazines. He didn't notice you were there till you shouted his name a third time.

"What the hell, Trevor! My place! What are you doing?" You shouted, that time loud enough for him to falter and slowly turn to face you. You dropped your bag on the ground.

"You," He said unsteadily, "you have nothing to do with this." he finished. 

"I think I do, since you're tearing up my home!" You exclaimed, completely shocked at what was even going on. Your day was bad enough already, and now this? What... was this?

"Stay the fuck out of this!" He erupted again, kicking over the coffee table.

"Stop, stop, stop!" You shouted back, yet you didn't move from that spot in the doorway. Your eyes wide, searching for anything that made sense, you were frozen.

"What's happened, Trevor- tell me." You said as calmly as possible.

"Michael's back! The lying, traitor, piece of pig shit's back." He roared, sending a block of kitchen knives flying in another direction, causing you to flinch.

"Where the fuck was he? Stop overreacting!" 

"Michael got Brad killed. Brad. Dead. He was in prison but he was really dead." He shouted. "Oh but this doesn't mean anything to you!" He laughed emptily, throwing his hands up in the air. You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms.

"Maybe it'll mean something if you explain it, Trev?" You replied.

"I got rid of Michael, (y/n). Gone! Up in North Yankton. We went back. And Brad was dead so I left Michael to die. _Dead_ like _Brad._ " He seethed. Things were almost nearly beginning to possibly make sense. You nodded your head slowly.

"Yesterday. You said you got rid of people. That was..." You said, a sickly feeling washing over you as you were unsure of how you felt about Michael being...

"No! Franklin went and saved his sorry ass, once again, and he's back in Los Fucking Santos! Alive!" He shouted back, and you were sure his thunderous voice was reverberating around the room. 

"You tried to kill Michael?" You asked slowly, your pitch rising at the end of the sentence.

"I wish!" He growled. "He killed Brad." 

"I have no fucking clue who Brad _is_ , Trevor!"

"Well you won't fucking _care_ , will you?" He shouted back.

"Shut the hell up! Stop saying things like that! You have no idea how demeaning that is! I care about you, tons, so stop acting like such an _insane bastard_ and  _talk_ to me!" You shouted. You nearly regretted your words, until you noticed the glass water bottle come careening towards you. You didn't even see it being picked up from the kitchen counter-top, it was that quick.

You finally moved, jumping back from your position, nearly missing the blow. The glass hit the side of the door frame, breaking with a loud shatter, sending glass everywhere. Most of the water spilled onto the carpet, but a large part of your hair was dripping wet. You felt a sting in your forehead, thinking 'great, another glass injury that occured in Trevor's presence'. 

But it all happened very quickly. Trevor's face went chalk-white, his eyes wide and apologetic, as he pleaded with you. Apologies, or something, you weren't really listening. You flicked your damp hair out of your eye, exhaling slowly. He was about to come towards you, but your hand was immediately outstretched, halting him. 

"Don't." You said. You wiped the scratch on your forehead, then brought your hand down to examine a streak of blood on your fingertips. 

You looked up again at him and said calmly, "I'm leaving. When I come back, you better either be _gone_ or have this place spotless."

You pivoted on your feet, exiting the apartment and leaving the door wide open. You heard him start to scramble to the door, so you called "Don't follow me."

 

* * *

 

 

Always relying on someone. Ricki, to get you an address. Taxi, to get you to a place. You sighed. 

 

"You're alive." You stated simply, when you were faced with the middle-aged man, clad in... bloodstained sweatpants and a tank.

"(y/n)..." Michael drawled slowly, not letting the door open any. He looked you up and down.

"There's blood on your face." He said, pointing to your forehead.

"I know." You replied, looking at your feet then back up. You pointed to the blood on his clothes. He looked down.

"Ah, I know - there was a slight... I mean, I fell and-"

"Cut the bullshit. I know." You interrupted. "But I don't know... everything."

"Right. What happened to you?" He asked, refusing to let the topic change.

"It doesn't matter, I'm just here to-"

"Was it Trevor?" He interrupted. You paused.

"No, of course not." You frowned. He observed you for a few seconds, looking you up and down sceptically.

"I want you to tell me the full story. What happened in North Yankton?" You asked, trying to change the subject.

"I've been asked that  _way_ too many times," Michael groaned, but you ignored him.

"I'm serious. Whenever it was you were up there _recently_ , what happened? Because Trevor is really shaken up."

"Oh, _Trevor's_ shaken up, is he? Because it was _me_ that left _Trevor_ alone with Chinese gangsters." He rolled his eyes. 

"What? Chinese... what?" You asked, extremely confused.

"You're gonna need a drink for that conversation." He scoffed.

"So let me in for one then." You reasoned, folding your arms.

"Why should I tell you anyway?" He narrowed his eyes, mirroring you by crossing his arms also. 

"Well..." You started, "Trevor wants to do the Big One. And you two need to be on speaking terms to do that."

"You know about... Well it's off anyway. Trevor'll kill me before we can hit the UD."

"Or else..." You said. Michael looked at you.

"We'll do it without you?" You said slowly, in a questioning tone, not completely certain of your motives.

 Michael let out a short, sarcastic laugh and said, "Oh, I'll let you in because you're funny."

 

And so you entered the large, _empty,_ mansion where Michael lived.

 

-

 

You threw back the shot of whisky. It tasted foul, it made your mouth sting and it burned the back of your throat. You savoured the discomfort, and slammed the glass back down on the counter.

“Another.” You barely whispered. Michael obliged and poured another dose of the alcohol into your glass. You quickly downed that one too.

“Fuck!” You spat, discarding the glass. “I needed that.”

“Yeah you look like it.” Michael said.

“So do you.” You noted. He had scratches on his face and bruises over his body. His eye socket was purple, and you looked at his dishevelled dark hair. He was still wearing the blood stained tank top and sweats. Michael filled his own glass with a laugh. He pointedly glanced at your glass. You moved it closer to him and he filled it up too. You both then raised your glasses.

“A toast to…” Michael said. He turned away and gazed off into thin air.

“Fuck friends. Fuck family.” He looked back at you, frowning as he tasted the bitter thought. He shrugged it off.

“Fuck everything.” You muttered, clinking your glass with his and swallowing the death liquid. You felt slightly light headed as you put the glass down. You closed your eyes and shivered.

“Now, tell me everything.” You opened your eyes again.

“Everything?” Michael repeated sceptically. He leaned against the counter casually. You mirrored him, though you were significantly shorter than him, so you had to look up. His eyes were hard to read.

“Maybe we oughta sit for this.” You said, pointing to the living room. He followed you through.

 

 You fell onto the sofa. He perched on the end beside you. He was going to light a cigarette when you swatted his arm.

“Don’t. I don’t want to stink.” You frowned.

“You’re right. You’ll just stink of alcohol instead.” He said.

“You’re miserable.” You snapped.

“And you aren’t?” Michael shot back as quickly as you fired. You sniffed in agreement and shrugged, he had that one. You took in a deep breath through your nose and exhaled. Michael looked ready for the question you were about to ask.

“Why were you up in North Yankton? Trevor told me some parts. He was manic though. Something about a lying, traitor, piece of pig shit. You’d killed Brad?” You did not avert your gaze, trying to read his expressions. They were empty, however.

“I didn’t kill Brad. The FIB killed Brad. Like, a decade ago. But yeah, Trevor didn’t know Brad was dead. He thought he was in prison.” Michael explained.

“Whoa. Was Brad close to him?” You asked.

“Well yeah and no. _Trevor_ sure _says so_ now. I don’t know, sort of. Brad was kinda a dick.” Michael said quickly.

“Who was he again?” You asked.

“Another guy that used to help us with jobs back in the day.” He scratched the back of his neck. You nodded slowly.

“And you let T think he was in prison, when he was really dead?” You frowned.

“I had to.” Michael said.

“You had to? What the fu-”

“You wouldn’t understand.” He cut you off. “My fuckin’ family were in jeopardy. I coulda’ been dead any fuckin’ day. I needed a way out, okay? I took the chance I had.” Michael said, sounding exhausted. You were beginning to feel the alcohol through your veins, numbing you all over. It was nice and fuzzy.

“I’m confused.” You said. “How is lying to your best friend saving your life?”

“The FIB got me out of the mess I was in ya see. Our score got fucked, and… and. I died. And Brad got sent to a federal penitentiary. And Trevor escaped, lucky bastard, right? You’d think he’d be happy…” Michael muttered.

“You died?” You blurted out.

“Trevor thought I died and Brad was in the pen. I was really alive; I fuckin’ changed my name and moved here. For my family. I saved them, from myself. I had to, I had no other choice.” Michael groaned. You let the information sink in, then you looked at him in disgust.

“And Brad’s dead. And T found out.” You frowned.

“Yeah, basically.” Michael replied. Well. You brought your legs up onto the sofa and hugged them. You felt tipsy.

 

“When did Trevor find out you were really alive?” You asked. You couldn’t look at him anymore.

“A while ago.” Michael sighed.

“And he didn’t kill you.” A laugh bubbled from your chest.

“No. Not yet, anyway.” Michael leaned back.

“But after what you did, you’d deserve it.” You said quickly, then regretted it. You didn't mean that, at all. It came out wrong. But Michael just nodded.

“Yeah.” He said. God, he was fucked up - In a different way from T or anybody else.

“So, T was right. You’re a lying, traitor, piece of pig shit.” You said.

“Yes.” Michael said.

“But he did leave you to get murdered by a gang of Japanese gangsters?” You asked.

“Chinese. And more like druglords, but yeah.” He said.

“Jeez. You two, you’re like a married couple. A weird, married couple.” You said.

“Actually, the Chinese thought we were a couple.” Michael laughed then frowned.

“Wow.” You chuckled.

“Ahh-Fucking Trevor…” he sighed.

“I’m sure you were.” You stifled a laugh.

He glared at you. You looked into his eyes. You wanted to glare back or curse at him or leave, but the alcohol was making you feel dizzy. His face was moving. It looked funny. You laughed.

“I want more drink.” You rose to your feet. You walked to the kitchen and looked around for the bottle of whisky. Michael followed you into kitchen. You found it and unscrewed the cap, taking a slug from the bottle. You pinched your nose so it didn’t taste as bad.

“Leave some for me; I need it more than you do.” Michael grabbed the bottle off of you, and filled his own glass. After he did so, you took the bottle back off of him, and jumped up onto the counter.

You swung your legs as you took swigs from the bottle, trying to block out everything that you had been told in the past hour. You were feeling more than tipsy now, as you looked at Michael and saw his face come to life. His eyes had another dimension. There was a cool icy blue layer on his iris, then a deeper, darker navy underneath. “Where his secrets hide.” You thought. You then giggled to yourself again. You felt like a stupid teenager and frowned quickly. You pinched the skin on your arm.

 

“What is wrong with you?” Michael slurred slightly, laughing.

“What? No-nothing.” You said.

“Yeah, there is.” Michael pointed at your nose. His hand kept coming, and he poked your nose then laughed. You laughed too.

“This is fun. Is this fun? Is _this_... having fun?” You frowned.

“I hate myself, but fuck, yeah. It's fun.”  Michael said.

“Why do you hate yourself? Wait, wait. Stupid question.” You looked at him and tried to keep a straight face, but he had this mock-shocked expression on so you burst into a fit of laughter. He did too.

“You’re, you…” Michael mumbled.

“Yeah, Michael. I… I’m me.” You replied, laughing. Michael grabbed your knees and squeezed. He was facing you.

“You kn-know what I... nah… I don’t know wha- I meant.” He laughed loudly. You found this incredibly funny for some reason, and you fell forward slightly onto his chest, which happened to be 10x funnier. You pushed yourself back up, both your hands on his shoulders and caught his gaze. You were still smiling like a madman, but he was just looking at your face.

You tried to look into his eyes to read his expression again, but he then looked down to your lips instead. There was something about the look in his face that suddenly made your stomach drop.

You felt empty, like something was missing and needed to be filled. You felt scared.

He pressed his lips to yours. You tasted the faintness of old tobacco. His lips felt hard against your soft ones, and you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck.

Wait, this was wrong. This was so wrong.

He slid his arms around your back and grasped his hands together around you. He was holding you tightly. You breathed in the musky, masculine smell of aftershave and sweat as you opened your lips slightly allowing him to kiss you deeper.

This made you a bad person, right?

His tongue explored your mouth and you stroked the back of his hair. It was all over the place, you were grabbing his hair and he was moving his hands from your back to your waist to your hips and back. You felt like you were floating, some sort of out-of-body experience. The butterflies in your stomach were fluttering so hard you felt sick.

But you were already a bad person. You stole and you killed.

You tasted the whisky, from either him or you – you didn’t know. It wasn’t exactly pleasant but it was something. Something that made you kiss him harder.

Bad people, time and time and time again. 

He suddenly pulled back; you took in a deep breath. Your heart was beating fast. Your vision was hazy. He held onto you even tighter, raising you slightly. You wrapped your legs around him, and he swept you off the counter effortlessly. He walked through to the living room, and you nuzzled your head into him, grazing your lips against his neck. He pulled you on top of him onto the sofa.

But there wasn't enough time... to regret.

 

You crashed together like two waves of pure, unjustifiable, lust.

You wrapped your arms around him again, kissing his collarbone. His breath on your neck sent goosebumps all over you. You both were really hot and your heart was racing faster as he kissed your neck and stroked your hips.

You felt so alive but detached at the same time. This didn’t feel like you, you were watching someone else. And you couldn’t stop.

He moved his hand and pulled your face back up to meet his, his fingers grazing your cheekbone. You felt the cool metal band of his wedding ring touch you and you shuddered. 

It wasn’t that he was an older man; that didn’t bother you. You'd already crossed the 'older man' line with Trevor. Though the fact that it  _didn’t_ bother you made you feel even more awkward and you felt a wave of hot self-loathing wash over you.

You pressed your lips to his again, like you were starving.

Then you realised, it was the fact that he was cheating on his wife. He was betraying her, just like he betrayed Trevor. You pulled back sharply.

“What?” Michael moaned, slipping his hands up your shirt.

“You’re… married.” You slurred, feeling dizzy.

“I thought you knew.” He stated, pulling you back in. You pushed his chest back.

“You don’t care? You’re betraying y-your wife… like this?”

“She always cheats on me. I won’t tell her.” His voice rumbled from his chest.

“So? Trevor… Trevor was right.” You said, tears appearing out of nowhere. You felt terrible for treating Trevor like he was crazy earlier. He was right.

“What, baby? Why’re you crying?” He looked back up at you.

“Right about what? Baby? F-fuck Trevor.” He wiped your tears. You swatted his hands away.

“You’re a liar. You’re a cheater, a traitor?” You said. Michael emitted an animalistic groan.

“Ugh, and he’s a psychopath! He shouldn’t still be walking around this state!” Michael said sternly.

“You’d rather he be dead?!” You cried, more tears falling.

“He would have been! Instead of fuckin’ Brad!” Michael cried back. You stared at him with wide eyes. You suddenly felt very self-conscious still sitting on his lap with your shirt riding up, so you tried to get up. Michael held your arms down.

“Wait, wait.” Michael said.

“No.” you shook away from his grasp, rising to your unsteady feet. You trembled, as you watched him look back at you. “You meant to kill Trevor?” You choked.

“I didn’t me-”

“Why should I believe wha-whatever the fuck you say, anyway? Why? All you fuckin’ do is l-lie. You  t-told me.” You said. “Trevor… told me too.” You slurred, stumbling backwards.

“Wait…” Michael called, rising to his feet.

“NO!” You shouted, turning around and running out of the room.

"You snake, you won't tell Trevor about this." You warned with a shaky voice just as you opened the front door, turning to face him now coming towards you.

You crashed through the front door as he shouted after you, "You're no better than I am!"

"We're just the fuckin' same!" He called, as the wind whipped your hair and the cool air dried your tears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry  
> A) about mistakes this was done on mobile  
> B) about just generally being mean


End file.
